Stargate: Fallen
by ScottTsukuru
Summary: A continuation of the Stargate franchise, set after the end of SGU, picking up during the developing conflict between Earth and the Lucian Alliance
1. Prologue

**Stargate: Fallen**

 **The End of Days**

His lungs burned as he clambered over the rocks, moving as quickly as he could manage, his mouth was bone dry and the taste of the acrid, choking air was all consuming. He staggered forward nonetheless, he'd been running for so long, he could scarcely remember what it was like before he wasn't. Had he stopped to think about it, it might have broken him, but instead he pushed on, subconsciously forcing himself, repressing this nightmare.

Nehred was ragged, bloodied and bruised, he was still a boy, as far as his people were concerned at least, who now found himself cowering behind a rocky outcrop at the top of a steep slope. Exhausted, his lungs begging for more oxygen than the atmosphere of his dying world could give him. Struggling to haul his body up the rock, propping himself up to allow for a better view back down the route he had dragged himself up, his face was caked in ash, streaked with tears and the blood from scratches and cuts. He willed himself to keep his heavy eyelids open, scanning his surroundings for danger.

How long had it been like this?

With a jolt he awoke, had it been hours, or just a moment? He wasn't sure. Nervously, and with a noticeable degree of effort, he turned, pulling himself further up the rock that had been the closest thing to a bed he'd had in weeks. Peeking over the top, he was able to see across the valley below. The valley that was his home, the home of his family and his people for generations.

It was beautiful. Thick forests stretched to the horizon, rivers of crystal blue water weaved through it, heading for the great sea beyond. In a clearing, the simple dwellings that formed the village he lived in stood out, the silvery thatch that covered the roofs reflected the sunlight, shimmering like little stars from this distance. Squinting, he saw smoke coming from the chimney, his chimney. The scent of home cooking filled his nostrils. His eyes closed, savouring the sensation.

With a shake of his head he opened his eyes, dark clouds of noxious pollution hung in the air, their stench washing away the memories of better times. Not a tree remained, not even a stump. The lush and verdant landscape had been replaced with one of nightmarish horror, the land bleak, dry and cracked. Great chasms had been torn into the earth, unimaginably deep, a mysterious red glow shone out of them in a way he couldn't comprehend. Great constructs of metal emerged from the depths, like a gigantic spider's web. He strained his vision, focusing intently on the shuffling shapes that were moving up and down them, disappearing into the chasms. His people? Why were they doing this if it was? Had they been enslaved by the monsters?

He'd been away when whatever this was had began. Sent on a pilgrimage with the other youngsters from the village, to travel to the Circle of the Gods and return a man. He'd been so excited to go, the sights he had hoped to see, not least the Great Circle itself. He clutched the small circular sliver of metal that hung from a string around his neck, not much else of the things he had left his home with had survived his ordeal. Why had the Gods allowed this to happen? Had he angered them?

What if this was the Gods…

He let go of his pendant and shook his head again, no, of course not, why would the Gods do such a thing? To destroy, well, everything? No, he was certain of it.

The thought of going down into the valley filled him with dread, but if his family was still there, his friends, he had to try and rescue them. He may not have returned a man as they hoped, but he was determined that he would try to save them.

The path linking where Nehred was to where he wanted to go didn't seem like the safest strategy, but as he started to climb down the cliff face he'd been at the top of, he wasn't as certain he'd made the smarter choice.

Anything to avoid those, those… things, he thought, and carried on climbing.

Suddenly, there was a rush of air around him, in a panic, he pushed himself into the rock face, hoping his body, covered in dirt, might provide sufficient camouflage to throw off any passing monsters. Slowly, turning his head, he caught sight of it. A huge… something. His mind couldn't comprehend what he saw; it was a large, dark grey block, drifting through the sky towards the former site of his village. His brow furrowed in thought, trying to process what it was. It floated through the air like a leaf or a skyrat, but it looked like some sort of giant canoe?

A sky canoe, he decided. His feeling of horror subsided slightly at having given it a name, whatever this beast truly was. It came to a stop above several large piles of rock, then seconds later, it moved on, the piles having disappeared. Perhaps this monster had enslaved his people to feed it… rocks?

No creature eats rocks, but then, no creature that big floats through the air like this.

Once the sky canoe was a safe distance away, or at least, what Nehred had decided was a safe distance away, he resumed climbing down. His already exhausted state hadn't been improved by the length of time he'd spent frozen in fear, muscles burned as they filled with lactic acid, and, almost inevitably, with just over 10ft to go, his foot slipped and he fell. Tumbling towards the ground, his body disappeared into a pile of ash and burnt plant matter more than a foot deep that had collected at the base of the cliff.

Coughing and spluttering he dug himself out and rose to his feet, starting to shuffle forwards, his left leg burned with each step, a jolt of pain shooting through his nervous system alerted his brain to something not being right, but then nothing about this was right, and he didn't have time for it. It was almost an advantage that the sheer psychological strain he was under somewhat helped him to be detached enough to block out some of the pain and carry on.

He could see people now, clearly. They were working their way down paths cut into the strange gouges that had been torn into the ground, or via the even stranger metallic structures. More were doing the reverse, but pushing carts filled with rocks back to the surface.

More food for the sky canoe?

He couldn't tell them apart, like him, tattered clothes and a thick covering of ash and soot made spotting his family an impossibility from the distance he was at. He'd have to get nearer.

Walking closer, with an ever more noticeable limp, Nehred passed the first of the gouges, it started as just a crack in the ground, but quickly grew until it was wider than the rivers that used to flow here. He peered over the edge at the strange golden red glow at the bottom, but quickly withdrew. It was hot! Whatever it was seemed to be moving, like it was still a river. Hot water? He shook his head. There was so much he couldn't explain.

Navigating his way through the gouges and cracks, since he couldn't see any bridges over any of them, he made his way towards the one that had people queuing to head back down towards the hot rivers.

They were stood silently in a line, single file, heading from the platforms the sky canoe had fed from, into one of the great gouges. Slowly, they moved forward, one step at a time, in perfect unison. He couldn't hear any talking, no noise at all in fact, suddenly becoming aware of how eerily quiet the valley was compared to how he remembered.

The hell with it.

He started shouting at the people, they didn't even flinch, just carrying on walking slowly back towards the gouge. He could almost touch them now, dragging his injured leg as best he could, he was getting increasingly desperate. Finally, he got within touching distance, he reached out and grabbed the nearest person, he still couldn't recognise who it was, like him, they were covered in dirt, soot and ash, unlike him though much of the person's skin was blackened, crusted and… hot. Perhaps the hot river and burnt them he reasoned, where they in too much pain to talk? He pleaded with whoever it was that he had in his arms, the first human contact he'd had in weeks, but all they did was stare blankly ahead, as if they didn't even know he was there. Overwhelmed, he started to shake them, screaming, demanding, but still, nothing.

Nehred dropped to his knees and sobbed. The thought of getting back here, the hope of seeing his loved ones again was all that had kept him going, and now here he was, he couldn't save them, for all he knew, that person was his brother, or a friend, they were all like that, shuffling away from him in silence like he didn't exist. With the last of his energy, he took his hands from his face and outstretched them, raising his head to scream out the last of his frustration and rage.

But all he saw was a monster.

White light, everywhere. It was so bright and disorientating he couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or closed, it didn't seem to make much of a difference either way. At first Nehred assumed he was dead, but as he slowly acclimatised to wherever he was, he was sure he could feel himself moving his head, though he started to become aware that while he could move a bit, something was stopping him from moving normally.

He moved his eyes around as best he could, it was still bright, but he thought he could make out walls. Was he in a room? How could inside be so bright? A noise to his right seemed to kickstart his senses, straining against whatever was stopping him from moving, he looked in its direction, at the corner of his vision, he could see what looked like beds, each with person lying on them. In a sudden panic, he looked to the left to see more of the same, then, still struggling, he looked downwards, making out his own body, still as battered and dirty as before lying down too. This bed was cold and hard, but it was still better than a rock. He tried to call out, his throat was still raw, his mouth dry. The best he could do was a moderately loud whisper, which is what he was sure the others were doing, but not loud enough for him to be sure, or to discern what they were saying.

He was uncertain whether to be more terrified than he already was, or start to relax. This place was so strange, but it's brightness made it feel like such a contrast to where he had been. Perhaps this was the realm of the Gods? He had been told the Great Circle was incredibly bright.

His internal debate was interrupted by more noise. Strange ones, metal clicking against metal echoed towards him from the right. Once again he looked as best he could, but now his view of the next bed was obscured by what looked like a tiny metal spear attached to more metal. His eyes widened, one by one, each person started to scream, till the occupant of the bed beside him started to scream too. As soon as they had started, they stopped, their mouth still open for a moment, but no sound came out, before it slowly closed.

Suddenly his head snapped back into place, fixing his gaze straight upward. He thought he could feel the spear getting closer and closer. Right on cue, he too found the ability to scream.

The white light returned.


	2. Carter Goes to New York

**Stargate Command  
** **Cheyenne Mountain, Earth  
** **Milky Way Galaxy**

War. The Stargate had brought so many wondrous things, it had opened up a world, no, worlds, worlds that were beyond imagining, it had taken the people of this planet from wondering if they were alone to travelling between galaxies. We met alien life and found countless brothers and sisters scattered among the stars, acquiring technology that would have remained the premise of science fiction for decades, if not centuries and changed the Earth forever, yet, it was conflict, violence and struggle that dominated. Ever since the forces of Apophis came through the Gate all those years ago, it felt like it had been one endless fight; battling against Goa'uld oppression, the destruction wrought by the Replicators, the Ori threatening to dominate all human life, the vampiric Wraith and now, the Lucian Alliance.

The Lucian Alliance. There had been tensions between them and the Tau'ri since they first encountered each other, in the power vacuum left behind by the end of the System Lords, what had been a gang of criminals and smugglers rapidly expanded, seizing territory and, importantly, a sizable portion of the former Goa'uld fleet. Freed from the snakes yoke, the Lucians chose to wield their own, rather than to bring freedom, like their more idealistic kin from the first world.

The Lucians conquered and enslaved, and spread drugs, crime and extortion far and wide. Conflict with the Tau'ri ramped up, leading to their attack on the Ancient starship, Destiny, the destruction of several outposts and the attempted bombing of Homeworld Command on Earth in 2010.

Though foiled, such an act couldn't go unanswered, the forces of Earth going to war with the Alliance. Much like their previous struggles, they were greatly outnumbered; the Alliance fielding hundreds of ships, Earth entered into the conflict with just six; Daedalus, Odyssey, Apollo, Sun Tzu, Hammond and Phoenix, though they were technologically superior to their foes, the disparity forced the continued reliance on special forces SG teams to infiltrate and destroy targets, while work on the design and production of a fleet large enough to defend not just the Earth, but all the free worlds of the galaxy, was carried out.

Carter leaned back in her chair, pushing her shoulder blades downwards, twisting her neck till a slight, but still satisfying crack was her reward. She had a stack of reports to get through before her meeting; SG teams conducting reconnaissance and strikes against Lucian targets, the status of starship production facilities at the Gamma Site and, with a heavy heart, casualty reports and letters of condolence.

Not that the letters could really inform those left behind, console maybe, but being told your son or your sister died in a tragic training exercise is perhaps harder to hear than the truth; they died keeping this planet, and the people of thousands more, safe. She thought of all the people she'd lost since she first came to this mountain.

At least one day, the world will know what countless other worlds already do; they were heroes.

Carter stood up, putting on her jacket, the rank of Brigadier General and the insignia of Stargate Command proudly on show, she lightly tapped the communication button in the lapel, linking her to the SGC's Command Room.

'Yes General?' came a disembodied voice.

'Homeworld Command please Sergeant.'

One flash of light later and Carter was in New York City, curtesy of a growing network of teleportation relay satellites in orbit. It certainly made travel between top secret facilities a lot subtler, and quicker.

Homeworld Command was a relatively non-descript government building, not far from the UN, handy, given the increasing international involvement in the Stargate Program. An organisation of its importance certainly deserved something a little more grand, she thought, as she stepped down from the arrival pad. She smirked slightly, the Asgard designed system didn't need such a thing like a specific area to 'beam' from or to, she suspected this had been at Jack's insistence, despite his denials when pressed on the subject. She returned the salute of the young officer who approached her and accepted her welcome, allowing herself to be led to the briefing room, where the IOA's governing council awaited.

The corridors were bustling with people on the move, in and out of various rooms. After Stargate Command itself, this building was home to the effort to fight a war across an entire galaxy, with all the requisite man power and bureaucracy that involved. It was increasingly political too, of course, with the plans to finally go public looming, the IOA was to be formalised into an official UN body when the world learns the truth; her official title was already no longer part of the US Air Force she had served under so long, instead the United Nations Coalition for Planetary Defence was the catchy new acronym in her life, with Stargate Command's SG teams and new SG Marine Corps alongside the SG Space Command branch that had taken operational control of the planets growing fleet functioning more like UN peacekeeping forces; with personnel effectively being 'loaned' to the new multinational operation.

Finally, she reached her destination, the military people in the room saluting her arrival, returning the gesture, her eyes picked out General O'Neill, who gave his usual smile / smirk from across the room. She made a mental note to catch up with her old team mate later, if there was time.

In a room packed with military, politicians and bureaucrats of all kinds, there was a slight deference towards herself and Jack that Carter had begun to notice, it was a marked change from the old days, when General Hammond spent his time fighting off the likes of Robert Kinsey. These days, sat in a room full of people who were aware of just how many times they had saved the planet, and how the public at large would likely become aware of it too in the not distant future, it had probably become politically expedient to be in either of the General's good books.

Good luck to them with Jack, she thought, and suppressed a smirk of her own.

It was a large room, with enough space for the two dozen or so people to sit around a table and at least as many more standing behind them. On the walls, flickering into life, where holographic screens, the faces of those who couldn't make it; leaders of off world facilities, starship captains and Colonel Shepherd on Atlantis, who nodded towards Carter after his eyes caught her.

With a clearing of his throat, Richard Woolsey, as Secretary General of the IOA, called the meeting to order. Offering one of his favoured speeches about the historic occasion ahead that largely washed over the audience passed by mercifully quickly and they moved on to the matters at hand.

"General Carter, can you update the Council on the ongoing military operations?"

Leaning towards her mic slightly, "Thank you Mr Woolsey, as you all know, we continue to fight Lucian forces on a number of fronts across the galaxy. In recent weeks, we have been devoting increasing numbers of SG Team personnel to seeking out, infiltrating and destroying facilities used for the construction of Ha'tack vessels, and I'm pleased to report that around 18 hours ago, SG's 14, 23 and 27 successfully destroyed just such a target on P3X-47Y."

This news was greeted with positive murmuring around the room.

"Regrettably, the teams were unable to obtain any information to explain the signs of recent technological advancement made by the Alliance, but nonetheless it is a significant blow to the Lucian's ability to sustain their fleet's numerical advantage."

Continuing, but with a tone tinged by sadness, "However, with the significant advantage in numbers that they still have, ground forces have been stretched thin fending off incursions into our own territory and that of previously unaligned worlds requesting aid. In the last 7 days alone, 42 Stargate personnel have been killed or seriously wounded in action."

Sitting back, the floor opened up temporarily, some present demanded the fleet be put on a more offensive footing, others countered that keeping the Earth safe from any further attempted attack was the highest priority, and fear of that fleet, small though it may be, had kept the Alliance from launching an all-out assault on the planet.

"When will these damned new ships be ready?" O'Neill interjected into the rabble, the room falling silent.

Steven Caldwell answered, now an Admiral, after transferring to the new Space Command. The Naval style ranks making ship commanders Captains was another change that had Jack's sense of humour written all over it.

"As it stands, we have the six BC-304s in operation, all are now equipped with the new 305 space superiority fighter. After successful shakedown tests, the first six 306 Light Battlecruisers are entering operation, with the Delta Site moving to full production, and I understand that the first of the new 307 class is near completion, once its shakedown is complete, the Gamma Site will also move towards full production. At normal capacity, we expect to produce thirty of the 306 and five of the 307 per year."

"I'm definitely calling one of these Enterprise," grinned Jack.


	3. In The Lion's Den

**P7X-843  
** **Milky Way Galaxy**

It was strange, how 'alien' worlds could simultaneously feel so odd, but still like home. Well, occasionally at least. P7X-843 was the 201stworld that Major Hailey had been on since she first set foot through the Stargate all those years ago. Here she was, trudging through a forest of trees, just like home. But unlike home, these particular trees had unusual, triangular shaped leaves that while green on the top, like home, were purple underneath.

Not like home.

Gravity was slightly higher, which improved things no end. The light of the system's star just enough of a difference to Earth's Sun as to be noticeable, what sounded like bird song echoed through the forest, but none of the team had seen the slightest hint of a bird since they got here.

Of course, it could have been worse, a lot worse. The Ancients had done a thorough job preparing the galaxy for everything a species like theirs would need, which was a plus for the Humans who came later, strange leaves and unsettling phantom bird calls aside.

SG-28 had been on this world for two days now, having slipped through the Gate with a group of travellers and traders they had managed to avoid the attentions of the Alliance thugs who had been guarding it, before disappearing into these trees rather than the well-worn path towards the nearest settlement.

Better to get there slowly than not at all had been the Colonel's decision, and she agreed, or at least she had before they'd discovered how humid the nights where on this planet. Not ideal for an undercover hike.

The team where carefully picking their way through the undergrowth among the trees, dressed in the relatively tattered rags and shawls that traders within Lucian territory tended to favour, over more functional, combat orientated leathers that hinted at the garb favoured by Alliance members themselves, but not quite. Jennifer's standard issues SG uniform would have been preferable, but likely less useful once their destination was reached.

Ahead of her, Colonel Elliot led the way, picking the safest route with a mixture of instinct and, more likely, the sensor system he carried, linked to a micro drone they'd dispatched above them, feeding data on the terrain to a display built into a contact lens. The Lucians had gotten good at spotting the more 'traditional' Tau'ri equipment, but the new generation stuff was beyond them, they'd never think to look for a contact lens. Hopefully, anyway.

Glancing behind her, she caught the eyes of Zach, the team's 'nerd' as General O'Neill had been known to call the role. General Carter had assured him that the General meant it as a term of endearment, after Dr Jackson, but he wasn't a fan of it nonetheless. Dr Stevens was an expert on various aspects of history, archaeology and linguistics, as well as being their field medic. Behind him, Lieutenant Xiu was bringing up the rear, on loan from the People's Liberation Army, she represented one of the first attempts at creating truly mixed nationality SG teams, rather than the previous approach of giving different nations their own, individual squads. Hailey figured this was the brass laying the groundwork for any future public disclosure of the Program, plus it prevented any individual country's forces going 'off piste' as had happened once or twice in the past.

SG-28 was one of the last of the 'traditional' style SG Teams; modelled after the legendary SG-1; (mostly) US Air Force personnel, someone with a science background, someone with a knowledge of history and so on. The newer teams were almost exclusively drawn from various nation's special forces; SAS, Delta Force, Spetsnaz and the like. While the SGC had largely been in a war of one kind or another since it had begun, it reflected the differing nature of the Lucian conflict, the kind of work those specialists could do on the ground was vital, and though well trained, wasn't something the regular Teams were as capable of.

Not that SG-28 wasn't capable, far from it she thought. Their mission was strictly recon, head to the town and observe. P7X-843, or Odessia, as the locals called it, was just inside the boundary of the territory the Alliance claimed. It was fairly unremarkable really, lightly populated by a people held in check by the Lucians boot. Their standard MO; control the Gate, control the people. Most world's lacked self-sufficiency in the wake of the Goa'uld Empire and were dependent on trade for survival. The Lucians would arrive in a show of strength, landing Ha'tacks, blow up a few buildings to make their point, leave a garrison behind to secure the Gate, then move on, maybe taking any of the locals who seemed useful as they did so.

It certainly didn't seem like this place had anything of particular value as they finally emerged from the treeline. Around 300m ahead was the beginnings of the town, it was typical of an ex Goa'uld world, simple stone buildings where the height of architectural technology here, further in the distance, beyond the settlement, all she could make out were farmlands, relatively freshly ploughed. This world hadn't been claimed by the Lucians for that long, a year or two at most, perhaps they'd been using the locals to clear away trees for that purpose thought Hailey.

The Alliance were no better than the Goa'uld when it came to treating the people under their rule. The Snakes were evil by their very nature, Humans doing it to other Humans was somehow worse, though, given Earth's history, not a shocking surprise reasoned Hailey. There didn't appear to be much in the way of technology here, but that was what they were here to determine. Along with territory and ships, the Lucians had captured large numbers of individuals, both Goa'uld and Human, who had built and maintained the technology that underpinned the now fallen System Lords. If all they had was the Goa'uld fleet, the Alliance would have been tricky, but ultimately simple foe to deal with; Earth's vessels, equipped with their Asgard technology were almost hilariously overmatched against a Ha'tack, their beam cannons capable of ripping through shields like they weren't even there, would have meant that, in time, it would have been possible to cripple or outright destroy the fleet, and drive the Alliance back to Lucia itself, but no, with the knowledge they had captured, they were, somehow, managing to improve upon the Goa'uld designs.

It had been theorised that the System Lords had deliberately kept their technology relatively stagnant, not that the Goa'uld as a species didn't understand the technology they wielded. While they had stolen it from the Alterans after their departure, it was obvious they understood it. The SGC's assumption was that, somewhere within the Alliance, there were a number of Goa'uld's, or possibly former Human slaves, who understood the technology, and were 'helping' the Alliance close the gap on the ships of the Tau'ri.

Therefore, one of the priorities was to determine whether this was true, and if it was, to put a stop to it.

The streets were dusty, people either tried to avoid making any eye contact whatsoever, or glared at them as they passed by. Strangers didn't seem particularly welcome, she thought. Nor did it have much of a welcoming atmosphere stranger or not, not least because it seemed fairly apparent that indoor plumbing was a technological innovation that had yet to be discovered here.

As they emerged into a public square, with what appeared to be a tavern of some sort at its centre, a group of Lucians approached them. Dressed head to toe in the black leather garb of the Alliance, they carried a mixture of Jaffa weapons and blades, at least as far as she could tell. Four men and a single female quickly crossed the distance between them, one of the men moved into the lead, just under 6ft tall, wiry and lean, but still with an air of threatening menace, his face ragged and unshaven, unlike his head, which was shaved bald.

"That's a Tau'ri weapon," the man growled, pointing his staff at the machine gun that he had obviously noticed under Colonel Elliot's robes.

Elliot narrowed his eyes and deftly pulled the gun out, the Lucians powering their staffs and charging their Zat'nik'tel's as the Colonel brandished the weapon in the air with a hint of triumph.

"That's what the bastard I took it from told me before I killed him," he boasted, shaking the gun for added effect, starting to laugh. This seemed to amuse the Lucians, who relaxed slightly, though their weapons were still armed. The man who spoke took a few steps further towards them, spinning his staff upright, resting the end of it on the ground.

"Who the hell are you people, and what makes you think you can walk into our town, armed?" His eyes narrowed, "Think carefully about how you respond."

As Elliot began to speak, Hailey stepped forward, by now she'd noticed at least one of the Alliance men eyeing her up, so she figured that could be advantageous in helping to disarm the situation. She smacked the Colonel in the chest as she passed by him, "Put that away, idiot," she snapped. Lucians respected strength, and she knew at least some of the clans had matriarchal structures.

"We are from a world on the other side of the Galaxy," she softened her tone, offering a slight smile, "and as my… associate here," she turned her head slightly, glowering at Elliot, who by now had figured out her game and was playing along, and had returned his weapon to his side. Returning her gaze to the Lucians, softening her tone once again, "we had a run in with the Tau'ri, there was a firefight and we escaped."

She stopped and looked around, taking in their surroundings. "Honestly, I had no idea this was your town, I have no idea what world this is, it's the sixth we've been to since we fled."

Turning back towards the Lucians, "it's said the Tau'ri can track you through the Gates, we had to be sure they weren't on our tail." She smirked, the men certainly seemed more relaxed, but now, the woman with them spoke.

"So you say you're running from the Tau'ri, and there are four of you? We often run into Tau'ri travelling in groups of four, but I suppose that's just a coincidence?" As she spoke the men with her somewhat stiffened up in their postures again, perhaps she was their leader, reasoned Hailey, so she decided to address her directly this time. She was the smallest of the five, lithe, but clearly strong, and confident. Long brownish red hair pulled back gave her face a hard look that matched her tone.

"There were seven of us, actually. There were four Tau'ri, we left them with two after they killed three of us, including my elder sister." Hailey narrowed her eyes and tried to summon as much rage as she could, the Lucian woman picked up on it, appearing to buy her acting.

"Then it is a pity you weren't able to take the lives of all four of those dogs to properly avenge your sisters death." She gave a slight nod, then quickly turned, and started to walk away from them.

"Come, perhaps we can ease your sisters passing with a drink in her honour."

What a drink it was, it took all of Hailey's self-control not to choke as she swigged it down. Some sort of spirit, but may as well have been paint stripper. Clearly, once the war was done, there'd be a hell of a business opportunity selling the galaxy decent booze.

"You're Lucian Alliance, aren't you?" By now things had largely evolved into a discussion between the two women, while the boys glowered at each other and choked down their drinks, and Xiu sat quietly observing. Tanna, as she'd said her name was, raised an eyebrow, sitting back, taking another shot of the liquid, before carefully, though deliberately, placing her empty glass back down on the table, for it to be quickly refilled by the cowering bartender who had been positioned behind her since they had sat down.

"And what makes you say that?"

"We hear stories, even where we're from," Hailey drained her own glass, before eyeballing the bartender to ensure he replenished her glass in as prompt a manner as he had for Tanna. "Stories of a people who had carved an Empire out from the ashes of the fallen Goa'uld." Taking another shot, moving forward, "Stories of a people who could fight the Tau'ri." She summoned her faked rage back as she finished the sentence.

"So you're not from an Alliance world?"

"Not yet, at least." Hailey smirked.

The discussion, and the drinking, went on, the Lucians' tongues loosening, the anti-intoxicant drugs SG-28 had taken doing their best to keep them relatively sober enough to control the direction of travel.

"The Tau'ri are such arrogant fools," snorted Tanna, "They think themselves so high and mighty, yet we Lucians fought and survived the Goa'uld for decades, and they think they can outsmart us?"

"They think they've outsmarted you?" Hailey questioned, sensing an opportunity.

"Of course!" Tanna laughed, "We let them feel as knowledgeable and superior as they believe themselves to be, we let them think they know the size of our fleet, we let them think they know our secrets, we let them think they have destroyed our bases and our shipyards." One of the men to her right made an explosion gesture and an awkward attempt at the noise, much to the laughter of everyone present, either real, or forced.

"We even let them think they've managed to infiltrate our worlds to gather intelligence." Tanna's eyes narrowed, knocking back her glass, just as something struck the back of Hailey's head, her body slamming into the table. She had just enough consciousness left to see a similar fate befall Zach to her right, before the room started to go dark as her body slid off the edge towards the cold stone floor below as the room echoed with more laughter.


	4. Bending The Rules

**Somewhere  
** **Nowhere**

The white light had lasted for what seemed like an age, it was everywhere, it was everything, he even felt like he himself was the light, which was just crazy, surely? It had completely disorientated him, he couldn't tell what was up, or what was down, he wasn't even sure if he was moving or not.

Then, finally, but slowly, the brightness of it all began to fade, as it did so, his senses began to reassert themselves; he was standing up, that much he could tell, which was a good start, or certainly a better start than still lying on his back in that terrifying room. Suddenly, he felt his toes, he still had toes! And he could feel grass underneath them, rich, thick, warm grass! A gentle, slightly moist breeze flicked his hair away from his face and just as suddenly, he could see everything.

Nehred was back on the cliff, but what a difference; the valley was lush and green once more, a forest full of trees stretched out to the horizon, crystal blue rivers disappearing in and out till the tree coverage got too dense to see them from his vantage point, he turned as the familiar screeching of some skyrats echoed from behind him, swooping over his head in the bright, blue sky and down into the valley below. Nehred turned back, his gaze following the flying creatures as they headed towards a clearing in the trees. Towards his home.

"Wait, where are the houses?" He absent mindedly mumbled to himself.

"My one was a Diner."

A voice! Nehred nearly leapt off the cliff in surprise! He hadn't heard a human voice in weeks, aside from those people screaming, something he'd rather forget. Equal feelings of excitement, dread and fear surged through his system as he slowly turned. Standing slightly further back down the slope from him was a man, but a man unlike any he'd ever seen, his skin was pale! The robes he wore did at least seem familiar, but that they seemed to be very slightly glowing was most definitely not familiar. Nehred felt he should have been afraid, but this stranger seemed to radiate a peaceful calm. Though bewildered, for the first time since his ordeal had began, Nehred began to feel safe.

"Wha, what's a Diner?" Was about as much of a response as he could give the golden stranger.

The man smirked slightly and stepped forward, tucking his arms into the sleeves of his robes.

"It doesn't matter, what matters is that this place is yours, your mind chose it."

That really didn't help with the bewilderment. The stranger could sense that much.

"Forgive me, I should explain. This… place," pausing as he seemed to be searching for an explanation that might make sense, "has been created by your mind, it is a place between the world you know, and the next."

Nehred wrinkled his brow, "You mean, I'm dead?"

"No, well, yes… Sort of."

"That's not an answer!"

"It's not a question that has an answer, well, certainly not a quick and simple one." The stranger paused, reading Nehred's emotions, he took another crack at explaining.

"Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away," as he spoke Nehred was shocked as the sky darkened, showing patterns of stars he'd never seen, before suddenly noticing the ground had disappeared beneath him, they were floating among the stars! Beneath them was… a planet? How did he know that? And why did it seem like the man had stifled a little laugh after saying that?

"On this world, a people, not unlike you or me, were born. The Celestians. At first, they lived very much like you, carving out their villages from the forests, hunting and farming the land." By now they were watching from above, like the Gods must, thought Nehred, he saw small people moving around, doing what the stranger described, but then the landscape shifted, many trees disappearing, buildings bigger than he'd ever imagined replaced them. "In time though, they advanced, inventing new technology and discovering more and more about the universe, they called this the Age of Awakening, and eventually the People of Celestis obtained the ability to leave their world behind."

The stranger paused, looking at him, presumably to see if he understood. Strangely he did, even though he'd heard and seen a whole host of things that he'd never even dreamed of before.

"However, soon ancient Celestis was stricken by war, her people split into two camps, those who followed a path of religion, and those who followed a path of science. The latter lost the war, and, facing their death, fled across the stars." They watched as small, ships? That word popped into Nehred's mind, it made sky canoe seem rather foolish somehow, began taking off from the surface and heading out into the darkness.

"Eventually, these people, the Alterans, found a new home, the galaxy we call home. Here they flourished, building the Stargates, and spread throughout what they called Avalon."

"The Circle of the Gods?"

"They weren't Gods, that's very important." He could tell the stranger was serious about this point. "They were people, not unlike us, more advanced perhaps, but there was no magic about them. The Age of Plenty lasted longer than our species has even existed, but eventually, tragedy struck the Alterans again, an Age of Darkness dawned, a great sickness killed many, and forced survivors to flee their homes again, to their last city, to wait out the plague."

"But not all the Altera who did not flee died, some discovered the ability to leave their bodies behind and exist as just consciousness, to ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"So, this is not heaven?"

"It isn't, though I suppose it could be considered so… It's likely that the stories of ascension are what influenced human cultures to dream of such a place."

"But you said they left our… galaxy?" Nehred felt like he was learning at a strangely fast rate.

"Eons later, some Altera did return to Avalon, to the world I called home, in their absence, they found that we, the humans, had evolved, from the seeds they had left behind. Seeing us as the second coming of their people." By now they were looking at another planet, presumably the strangers home.

"My people aren't from my world?"

"Not originally, no." replied the stranger. "The Alterans hope discovered upon their return was soon tempered by the realisation that humankind had been enslaved by another of their creations; the Goa'uld. A truly evil species, they had posed as the Gods of the primitive cultures of Earth, either ruling the planet itself or kidnapping entire groups, using the Stargates and stolen ships to transport them across the galaxy. It's likely how your ancestors reached the world you called home."

"They created the evil creatures?" This was all very perplexing.

"Not intentionally, no, but it has to be said that these people didn't have the best of luck… For all their power, that could certainly make them seem like Gods, they still made mistakes. But this one hit them hard, there's a reason The Others call this time the Age of Darkness."

"The Others?"

"We'll get to that?"

"My family… my friends, they aren't, here, are they?" Suddenly they were stood on the cliff again, but now it was the hellscape Nehred remembered. Actually, it was worse; the sky was completely black, all the land in the valley was shattered, riven with… lava. The glowing rivers were lava. How was he figuring these things out?

Before the stranger could respond, "Wait, this is different than I remember."

"That's because we are really here."

"But I'm dead?!"

"As I said, you're not, exactly, dead."

Nehred just stared blankly at the man.

"Ascended beings can exist in both the ascended realm, and the material realm, like here. Though not for long, at least not easily. The Others aren't too keen on that either."

"Why me? Why did I… ascend?"

"You didn't, well, not alone. Ascended beings can help others ascend, well, sometimes. We aren't allowed to interfere, as much as I would like to, when I saw what was happening to you, so I did my best to save you." The stranger paused, "It's what someone else did for me, and I did it in her name."

More lava erupted from the ground in the distance in a great explosion, the planet was dying, it had been mined aggressively, with disdain and abandon, huge chunks of it ripped out, everything useful stripped away and taken. It was a crippled husk. "Who did this?"

"We'll get to that too."

"Well then, who are you, can you tell me that?"

"Daniel," he smiled. "Daniel Jackson."


	5. Meanwhile on Lucia

**Lucia**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Most worlds in the galaxy had been relatively similar, those with humans living on them certainly. They tended to have small populations, living within walking distance of their Chappa'ai. Primitive, largely agrarian societies, living in fear of their God.

This wasn't an accident, it was not the default setting for the average human society by any means, no, it was by design. The Goa'uld were keen to ensure that their average human world would have no means to challenge them. They achieved this by ensuring that these worlds lacked all the resources they needed to survive, or at least, lacking the resources required to grow their populations beyond the meagre numbers their Gods deemed acceptable.

These low numbers prevented the technological development that would then allow the populations to live more than an achievable walking distance from their source of trade, adding another constraint. These factors kept the average human comparatively ignorant, and afraid.

Lucia was different.

The Goa'uld weren't stupid, though popular an opinion it may be after their fall. No, they knew the very system they created to control their worlds required there to be some where trade could take place, where their slaves could come to acquire what they needed to survive. Lucia was one of these worlds, a trading hub, with vast markets crowding around her Chappa'ai attracting people from across the galaxy.

For a time, Lucia was, comparatively speaking, a paradise. Life was relatively free, compared to the average world within the Goa'uld Empire. People came, traded their wares and left, leaving behind enough goods to sustain the locals as payment. But the yoke of the Goa'uld was still there, looming over them all, like an ever-present gloom hanging over the planet's skies. Eventually, a group of traders and merchants banded together, killing the False God who ruled over them and slitting the throats of his Jaffa guards.

For the first time, Lucia was free.

And ever since, Lucians have seen themselves as the true conquerors of the False Gods. But Odai Ventrell thought those people were idiots. He had a different idea about Lucia's 'freedom;' chiefly, that it was just another form of Goa'uld control; as well as the slave worlds and the trading worlds, there was another kind they encouraged, the rebellious world.

It might sound disingenuous, but as said, the Goa'uld weren't stupid, and the Lucians followed the script they had intended. Their checks and balances almost assured no other outcome. Lucia's new-found freedom saw a drop in trade, the Gods forbidding their people to travel there saw the markets fall quiet. Lucia could not feed her people, another of the Goa'uld's plans, so it wasn't long until famine began to bite. First, those traders and merchants who had fought together, split, fighting among themselves over the last meagre resources, inadvertently establishing the first clans in the process. It wasn't long until one of those clans managed to seize control over the Chappai'ai, and, hit upon the idea of applying their newly acquired raiding tactics to other worlds. That clan quickly grew powerful, but that power attracted near constant attacks from the others, jealous and hungry, for both power and food. This led to the birth of the Alliance, the clans coming together, for the most part, at least.

But this anarchy was the 'Gods' plan, Lucia was no beacon for human freedom, if anything, the living standard for the average person had dropped noticeably, they had simply traded being dominated by a Goa'uld for a human boot on their neck instead. The designed in lack of resources turned an idealistic people fighting for a better future into divided clans of mercenary, thieving murderers.

Divided clans of mercenary, thieving murderers who then struck out at the galaxy, attacking Goa'uld worlds for whatever they needed. Of course, this was something of an inconvenience for the average System Lord, but safe in the knowledge that it would be causing the others problems too, they were quite content for the odd irritating thorn in the side, anything that helped to prevent any Lord from getting too powerful was welcomed, despite each actively trying to achieve just that. Worlds like Lucia were allowed to think they were defying the Gods, their reckless, often violent actions also served to keep loyal worlds in line; respect your God or they will leave you to the horrors of the universe.

While this toleration for some 'rebellion' would eventually bite the System Lords when they failed to stop the Tau'ri before it was too late, it had worked perfectly with the Alliance for decades.

But now the System Lords were gone. Ventrell was sure they hadn't planned for that.

Lucia today was one of the most heavily populated planets in the galaxy, well, when ignoring the outlier that was the Tau'ri, anyway. Far from being the rebel world it was, it was now the capital of an Empire, an Empire with dozens of worlds actively controlled by the clans, and hundreds more under the Alliance's thumb.

Almost understandably, many of his Seconds were thrilled. With the System Lords gone, they rampaged across the galaxy, ironically repeating the fallen Gods tactics; destroying planets ability to feed themselves, then reaping the benefits of selling the essentials for life to cowed populations. To them, it was an age of plenty that would never end.

It would though. Ventrell wasn't a fool. The Alliance couldn't continue behaving like what it always had been, that was fine back when they were skulking around in the Goa'uld's shadows, but now, now they had the chance to be a major power in the galaxy! But for every world they ransacked, it pushed a dozen more into the embrace of the Tau'ri. He had no love for the first worlders, but he was smart enough to see them for what they were, and the danger they represented to the Alliance. He'd never sought war with them, but, as reluctance to deal with the Tau'ri had cost his predecessor his life (at Ventrell's own hand no less), he'd gone along with it. As he saw it, neither side were ready for the war, though even he admitted, any hope of an outright victory for the Alliance was sooner rather than later. The Tau'ri had the technology, they advanced by the day it seemed, but they lacked the numbers. Not in people, but in ships. The Alliance had the numbers, a vast fleet of Goa'uld origin at their command, but they lacked the technology. Sure, they had got by on the 'experts' they had acquired during the fall of the System Lords, but it wasn't sustainable. The Alliance produced no scientists, trained no engineers, they stumbled in the dark, trying to understand technology they stole from a race that had stolen it themselves.

Many of the other Seconds weren't interested in such things, building a functioning state had a lot less opportunity for pillaging than their old ways. Ventrell had been through endless rows with those members, comparing them to the Jaffa; ignorant fools clinging to a past that would doom their futures. He'd been slyly sending the worst of them off on thankless missions, packing Kiva and her group off to the Destiny had made losing the few capable people that were with them worth it, for example, and sooner or later the forces of the Tau'ri could be relied upon to thin the ranks.

Ventrell's plan was to try and build the Alliance up into something large enough and strong enough that even when the Tau'ri had the numbers, they'd think twice. The First Worlders weren't warlike by their nature, his own experiences with them, even his time on Earth led him to believe there could be an uneasy peace, the Alliance and Earth would never be friends, but they could co-exist.

But first he had to get the Seconds on side, then he had to force the Tau'ri to the table. Easier said than done.

He stood at the window at the end of his throne room, once home to the Goa'uld's that had ruled this world in the name of their patron System Lord, now the Alliance's First made it their home. He looked out across the city, small transport ships crisscrossed the skies above the slums and markets below that stretched to the Chappa'ai and beyond, either side of the central boulevard that linked the palace to it. Interspersed among the ramshackle structures, the odd new building took shape, barracks to train a more formal Lucian military, the beginnings of a genuine intelligence operation, even what he hoped may become centres for education. Such things pissed off the clans, accusing him of seeking to concentrate power in his own hands, and therefore, his own clan, that would see it dominate the others.

Truthfully, Ventrell didn't give a shit about his clan. They hadn't cared about him until he'd killed Netan and took his place. If he could get away with it, he'd abolish the clans and be done with it. But he enjoyed keeping his head more, so he played the game.

At least the Tau'ri war kept the clans from actively fighting with each other.

Even at this distance, he could see the event horizon of an incoming wormhole. The Seconds were arriving. It had become taboo for them to bring their fleets to the capital, such were the size of them these days, it had been agreed it was a potential flashpoint that was best avoided.

Each Second would emerge, their retinue in tow, a mixture of advisors, trusted Lieutenants and bodyguards and make their way down the long boulevard linking the Chappa'ai to Ventell's palace looming on high at its end. The people of the slums scurrying away from their begging spots, for fear of a vicious beating or worse from daring to approach a Second. Even those who ran market stalls nearby made themselves scarce. There was little positive to be gained from catching these people's attention, and a lot to lose.

Ventrell sighed, watching the disparate groups making their way towards him, afraid and angry at each other, dismissive of a people that were both afraid and angry at them. He was no Tau'ri, he didn't wish for some ridiculous 'democracy' like they were busy spreading throughout the worlds that they controlled, but ruling by fear alone? It would never last. Plenty had countered that it had worked for the Goa'uld for long enough, but, people fear Gods. The Alliance were no Gods, and everybody knew it.

Still, at least those refugees escaping for Tau'ri space gave opportunities for sneaking spies into their ranks.

Ventrell looked to his side, one of his assistants had appeared in the doorway, his wordless nod signalling that the Seconds had arrived. Ventrell returned to his throne, in front of which now sat a long table, with 20 seats ready and waiting. He sat down and paused. He'd keep them waiting of course, everything was always a show of power, of strength. Weakness invited attack, but conversely, strength encouraged obedience. It didn't hurt for them to be reminded of their place as they stood waiting in the corridors for their First's permission to enter.

One by one, the groups came into the throne room, pausing to give respect, before the Second took their seat, and their associates drifted off to the edges of the room to observe. From the first clan, Ventrell's own, Nodor, he'd known the man for years, he was tough, uncompromising, but while having no love for the First, he wasn't unreasonable. The second, Terrin, was younger, rash, the scar on his face, curtesy of an encounter with a Tau'ri, was testament to that. The third, Rin, matriarch of her clan was another who was at least sympathetic to Ventrell's views, and the least interested in fighting with Earth, though her territory being the on the far side of Lucian space, well clear of Tau'ri influence, was perhaps a factor. The fourth, her opposite, Navar, Kiva's successor, hated the Tau'ri with a fury. It took near constant observation to be certain they didn't try anymore suicidal attacks on Earth itself. The fifth, sixth and seventh leaders, Gelan, Orren and Letan were middle of the roaders, swayed by the prevailing mood of the council. The eighth, Millic, had been loyal enough purely because Ventrell had killed Netan, as was the ninth, Rameris. Karug, the tenth, on the other hand, was fairly hostile because of this. The eleventh, Slaviash, while also having been around during Netan's reign, didn't seem fussed either way. He was the eldest of the Second's, he'd survived through the rule of a number of different Firsts, as long as his own interests weren't disturbed, he could be counted on to at least keep out of the way. The twelfth, Sarra, was Gavos' successor and younger sister. Given that her brother was killed by Netan for his views in favour of restraint when it came to the Tau'ri, her loyalty to Ventrell was solid. The thirteenth, Jesa, was a close ally of Sarra, but the fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth, Serrac, Latollen, Kollai and Gerrin were all in the hostile camp. The glowering stare of Morall was in fact the deception of a good friend as he took his seat as the eighteenth. The nineteenth, the newest member of the Council, Qita, 'replaced' her predecessor after a shipyard under his control had been destroyed by Tau'ri forces, was a question mark, she certainly looked at him with a smile, but that was no guarantee she wasn't thinking about stabbing a blade in his back should the opportunity arise. Finally, in the last seat, the mysterious Kefflin, a close ally of Netan, and a master of infiltration and torture. He was one to be watched.

All in all, the group was finely balanced, at least eight of the clans actively opposed him in one way or another, be it his views on the war with the Tau'ri, his plans for the future or merely that they objected to him being First, some purely because he'd been an outsider, not even a Second when he took control.

"Seconds, Lucia welcomes you home." Ventrell's words cut through the rabble in the room.

"Thank you, Ventrell,' Nodor smirked. Ventell raised an eyebrow slightly at his clansmen, was he being impudent, or was he giving him an opportunity to show strength? The guards at each side of his throne tightened their grip on their respective staff weapons as he did so regardless.

Taking in the situation, the man squirmed a little, "First." Correcting himself. Good, the desired effect had been achieved, assuming it was his plan at least.

"Well then, let's not waste my time. Let's get started."

What followed was each of them updating the rest on what they'd been up to. It essentially amounted to a round of boast and counter boast, with some more truthful setbacks sprinkled in.

Terrin, once he had finished listing the worlds that his forces had raided, let slip that a handful of worlds in his territory had been suffering from 'illnesses.'

"Perhaps you should consider giving your people enough food to stop them starving to death. Then maybe they wouldn't get sick." Sarra, glaring at the youngster, using a dismissive tone.

"They aren't my people." Terrin almost spat as he said it, but before he could carry on, Ventrell interrupted.

"They're your what then, your slaves?"

The room fell silent, the younger man sitting back in his chair. Inside, Ventrell grinned, an opportunity to slap down the little prick had presented itself.

"How many are, your people then, Terrin? Your clan, a few hundred? A few thousand? How many would you trust? How many aren't plotting to stab you in the back, like you did your predecessor?" Terrin looked downward, not offering much of a response. "The rest of you, what of your, peoples? Hundreds, thousands as well?" Before they could start arguing about who had the biggest clan, Ventrell continued. "We aren't one world anymore; your clans aren't gangs squabbling in the slums of this capital anymore. Each of you are responsible for the lives of billions across the worlds that you rule, and the worlds that you raid."

"All of them?" Oh, you stupid little bastard, you're making this too easy laughed Ventrell to himself.

"We aren't Goa'uld. We can't rule through fear and have the people cower thinking their Gods will punish them if they don't listen. They know what we are. Men, women, not Gods. Give them nothing to live for and people with nothing to lose will come for us." By now Ventrell was talking directly to Terrin, but there were others here who needed to hear this.

Without breaking his gaze at the youngster, "Sarra, since Terrin is obviously finding it difficult to manage all of his holdings, might the Twelfth Clan prove a better custodian of these worlds?"

Smiling, Sarra replied, "Of course First. The people will soon see enough sustenance to prevent them feeling so… under the weather." Terrin slammed his fists into the table, jumping to his feet, but before he could reach his full height, Ventrell's guards had their staffs powered and pointed at him. The Second's own guards began to move forward to protect him, but reading the situation, with more foresight than Ventrell had given him credit for, he motioned for them to stand down, and retook his own seat once more. Through gritted teeth, and still with two staffs aimed at him, he acquiesced.

"As I've said before, if you wish to enjoy the fruits of having an Empire, then we must run our affairs as an Empire, not a collection of brain dead thugs."

Before they could start bitching at that, Ventell sat back and nodded slightly to a guard at the far end of the room, who in turn nodded to another beyond the doorway, which led to the prompt arrival of two more, on either side of a man they forced in with them, bringing him to the end of the table the Seconds sat at.

"Why don't you all say hello to our guest?" Smiled the First, slightly bewildered, the Seconds made a mixture of half-hearted greetings, yet the newcomer stared passively into space, ignoring them.

This didn't please at least one of the guards, who barked "say hello to the nice people!" Before jabbing him in the back with his pain stick, the man roared, collapsing to his knees, he growled, grimacing in pain before looking up at the gathered Seconds, his eyes flashing an unmistakable white.

The Seconds were taken aback, several stood up in surprise, demanding to know what a Goa'uld was doing here.

Ventrell smirked, "This is my new friend Ptah. You see, Ptah here has been laying low since the fall of his brethren, hiding in the shadows, trying to avoid catching any attention. Why, you may ask? Why would a False God be cowering out of sight like a meek child?" From the look on its face, the Goa'uld wasn't happy about Ventrell's line of thought. "Why would Ptah here, be trying to hide among a group of hungry, poverty stricken refugees?"

That had several of the Seconds laughing at the thought. The Goa'uld's eyes pulsed again, which earned him a second jab with the pain stick.

"Well, it turns out that our friend Ptah here, despite not being a System Lord, or even a Lord of any note at all, has had quite the interesting career, in the service of… Anubis." The excited murmurings between the Seconds confirmed they were all at least smart enough to know what that meant, but it was worth spelling it out to them, if nothing else than to show them the strength of Ventrell's position. "As I'm sure you all know, in possession of the knowledge of the Ancients, Anubis was able to enhance his ships to levels far beyond the rest of his kind. Indeed, they were even a match for the Asgard. But, Anubis wasn't able to do that work himself, no, he had no corporeal form. He needed a trained monkey to work the tools."

More laughter from the Seconds. Restraint from Ptah however, who must have had enough of the pain stick.

"I give you, the monkey!"

Roars of laughter now as the furious Ptah was dragged away. The discussion now focused on exactly how Ventrell had come into possession of the Goa'uld, how long he'd been working and what results were being had. The revelation that the ships loyal to the First in orbit had already received enhancements unsettled the room. Ventrell was clear, loyalty would be rewarded, and the disloyal would soon find their precious fleets outmatched not just by the ships of the Tau'ri.

Some of those known to have more questionable views of Ventrell's leadership began jockeying for favour, keen to avoid missing out on the advantages that were now on offer. Navar's were far beyond questionable, and her Fourth Clan were by far the most aggressive, and reckless. They'd already tried to bomb Earth at least once. It seemed the chance to go toe to toe with their enemy's ships made her willing to change her mind, publicly at least.

"You know, with these new ships, my men could do more than just capture Tau'ri." Her tone was one of almost thinking out loud, an air of surprising nonchalance to announce the capture of Earth forces.

Morall leaned in, "What have you done now?" Several of the Seconds laughed at that, somewhat ruining Navar's act.

"We're at war, aren't we? Not that you'd know it from some of you dogs." Great, thought Ventrell, another argument looms. He better interject.

"Have you gotten anything useful out of them? Better be quick before more of them turn up to rescue them…" More laughter. A joke, but it tended to be true, hence the preference for allowing them to go home relatively unscathed, complete with false information.

"They are still claiming to have had no contact with the Destiny for one…"

"Kiva's folly" Laughed Karug. In a split second Navar was on her feet, her blade driven into the table.

Ra be damned thought Ventrell as he rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair. This shit would never end.


	6. SG-28 Behind Bars

**P7X-843**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

In the mission reports, it felt like SG-1 were captured all the time. By the Jaffa, by the Goa'uld, even by the Lucians. What would follow would be a mixture of Carter thinking their way out, O'Neill insulting their captors or a relatively implausible rescue within a short enough period of time that Hailey didn't imagine they'd ever been truly worried when finding themselves in such situations.

That hadn't been the case for SG-28.

Hailey wasn't sure how long it had been, weeks at least, she thought, their captors had made liberal use of sleep deprivation techniques, as well as preventing them from seeing much in the way of daylight, so she was making an educated guess at best.

She was exhausted, thinking straight was proving increasingly difficult as a consequence. Physically, at least herself and Xiu had avoided the heavy beatings that had been doled out to Elliot and Stevens. Perhaps she had her Lucian counterpart to thank for that. Perhaps they were saving her own beating for last.

Hailey was knelt on the floor, she was gently stroking Zach's head, while using a discarded piece of fabric to soak up some of the bleeding from the swollen mess that was his right eye socket. Of the four of them, only Zach wasn't from a military background, capable though he was, and he certainly was, she felt this experience had to be the toughest on him, so she was doing her best to get him through it.

They were all drawing hard on the training they'd received, particularly that from the newer special forces guys on how to handle interrogation. In the movies, you'd see the captured soldier bravely defying their captors, refusing to co-operate, spitting in the face of his enemy with defiance.

That was a good way to end up dead.

The trick was to be useful, without necessary giving away anything you wouldn't want to. There'd been no point denying they were Tau'ri, for example, their captors had figured that out for themselves from their equipment, but they hadn't offered up anything that might be of tactical use; the Lucians were particularly keen on finding out fleet numbers, locations of shipyards etc. It wasn't a lie to say she had no idea.

The next step was to try and build a relationship with the captor, get them to empathise. Hailey deflected a number of questions by suggesting that she and the team were merely lowly grunts, not included in such high-level plans because they weren't high enough up the totem pole to deserve it. This seemed to work, she'd gambled that, given the relatively run of the mill, backwater planet they were on, that these Lucians weren't exactly vying for the leadership of their clan, it didn't lead to an exchange complaining about the irritations of any hierarchical military structure, but she was still alive, and relatively unharmed.

They had seemed strangely interested in the Destiny, Hailey saw no reason not to give up information on it, seeing as there'd been no contact with the ship in years. She explained that, after sustaining damage from an alien attack, the last the SGC had heard was that the Destiny had attempted to travel to another galaxy to escape the threat, but that, given the damage, it could take anywhere from a few years to a few centuries. She neglected to mention that all but one of the Lucian boarders were either dead or abandoned on a planet in that previous galaxy, that seemed like something that may anger her captors, if they were indeed the same clan as at least some of the boarders. She couldn't think of any other reason they'd be so keen on gaining information about the ship's fate, certainly.

That had covered the first week or two, maybe more, but by now, the team had effectively run out of things to say, and their captors had run out of things to ask. Beatings and being otherwise left to rot seemed like the order of the day, how long this would last before they'd get bored and put us out of our misery was the question bothering Hailey the most.

Or if a rescue would come.

That wasn't made any more likely when, after her first interrogation session, she woke up back in the cell with a badly stitched wound on her wrist, the subdermal beacon that would have made beaming her out of this place a piece of cake for any ship that could get in range, had been cut out. That meant that any rescue would have to involve an attacking force getting to them, to then either call in a beam out, or get them back to the Gate. Of course, after they'd been captured, it was probable that the presence of the Lucian 'military' on this world would have been stepped up, making rescue all the tougher. She hoped the delay was the SGC waiting it out; sooner or later any extra forces would be needed elsewhere, or, more likely, get bored and go off in search of plunder. Capable as a fighting force they may be, but disciplined they were not.

The cell they were in was probably what most people would imagine a prison cell to be, made entirely of cold, grey stone, with a door made of solid metal bars. The floor was damp with a mixture of sweat and blood, the unpleasant bucket in the corner at least kept any other bodily fluids from making the floor any worse, but that was it as far as amenities went. Beyond the bars, was a similarly stone corridor, and another cell, albeit an empty one, opposite. Their cell was at the end of a corridor of them, though theirs seemed to be the only one that was occupied. She could hear the sound of Lucian guards that were congregated at the end of the corridor, presumably drinking, gambling or both, laughing and joking in the form of Goa'uld that was the lingua franca of the Alliance. Hailey could speak it well enough, but it was hard to decipher at this distance. Not that a lack of understanding that alien language would have spared them from questioning when their lead captor, the woman, Naava, had turned out to speak surprisingly good English. Quite how the Alliance were managing to learn it was something that intrigued Hailey, maybe should she try asking that during her next interrogation, she thought. Might get a conversation going, for a short while at least.

The conversation had shifted while she thought to herself, it sounded like a new voice had appeared, possibly through the long range Goa'uld communications device she'd seen during one of her trips being dragged to and from the cell. She tilted her head, trying to improve the quality of what she could hear. The new voice sounded critical, presumably someone higher up in the clan's structure, it wanted to know if the Tau'ri were alive.

"Of course they are, we are interrogating them." She was sure that was Naava's voice, bragging by the sounds of her tone, despite the different language.

"If they had anything of consequence to tell you, they'd have done so by now. The longer you keep them here, the more likely more come looking for them." The new voice was sounding increasingly pissed.

"Let them come," snorted a male voice in the room. One of the pricks who did this to Zach's face, she thought while still tending to her injured teammate.

"Idiots. The war has changed. These new Tau'ri don't fuck around. You got lucky. Kill them, let them go, either way, I don't care. Just get them off this planet, chuck the bodies through the Chappa'ai to a Tau'ri world if you have to, but the clan will not send anymore fighters to this dirtball you're on." With that, the new voice stopped, must have definitely been through a com, thought Hailey. Part of her wondered if she should be offended at the idea of these Lucians being 'lucky' to have encountered SG-28, but then, the voice had been right. The war had changed the SG teams, and the new ones were not the mixtures of soldier, explorer, ambassador and historian, no, they were soldiers. The sort of soldiers that scared regular soldiers back on Earth.

With an almost spooky coincidence, Hailey was snapped out of her thoughts by the muffled sound of an explosion somewhere in the distance, shortly followed by the unmistakable sounds of panic among the nearby Guards, before the sound of hurried footsteps on stone suggested that at least a few of them had gone off to investigate.

The commotion had raised Colonel Elliott back to an almost conscious state, meanwhile Hailey was working on getting Zach back on his feet. The question in her mind now was would whatever Lucians that were left guarding them decide it was a better plan to get out of the way before any rescuers turn up, or to kill the prisoners before they did so.

Suddenly, the wall outside their cell exploded, thankfully cutting short the amount of time the guards had to determine their fate, then the arcs of energy tearing through the smoke cut things even shorter. In a flash, their barred door was open, an outstretched hand coming towards her.

"Major Hailey? Colonel Daniels, SG-42. Let's get you guys home."

I guess sometimes things can happen like it did in the mission reports.


	7. Building Starships

**Gamma Site**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy  
**

The Gamma Site was basically in Earth's backyard, at least in galactic terms. Orbiting Eridani A, 16.5 light years from Earth, the volatile nature of its star's companions, Eridani B and C, offered a useful protection from the snooping scans any passing ships might attempt.

It was a strange place to live, gravity a little lower than Earth, a year only 223 days long. Days were generally noticeably brighter than under the light of Sol due to being that much closer to the system's star, nights were rarely as dark, with Eridani B and / or C invariably visible in the sky. It was a harsher environment than one might wish for, quite dry, though thankfully minus the blistering heat you may expect to go hand in hand with that. On the other hand, lacking an axial tilt like Earth, climactic conditions were largely stable all year long, so at least you could reliably leave the umbrella at home.

Even so, it had become home to Alec Colson, having moved here to oversee the construction, then operation of the starship construction facility that was now up and running. After time spent more or less hiding out on the Alpha Site after his company had been almost destroyed by The Trust, and their failed attempt to kill him. Now that Coulson Industries was more or less an inhouse contractor for the SGC owned by the Government, it allowed him to continue to be useful.

He remembered his first visit here, when after stepping through the Gate, all you could see for miles around were rocks and dust, but now, now it looked like a thriving little town; a dozen different hab-blocks housed the workers, as well as other buildings for entertainment, food and so on. It was nothing fancy, but still. And of course, beyond those, were the large hangers that were home to starship production.

The facilities themselves were, frankly, insane, even to someone who could be legitimately described as a genius such as himself. They made liberal use of alien technology, like everything else these days to be fair, so after leading the team to design and build them, Alec didn't actually have a whole lot to do. It was an incredible process; the raw materials would arrive, either through the Gate or via ship, naquadah, trinium and neutronium, which were then fed into the nano fabricators, truly remarkable machines, apparently based on Asgard technology that had been installed aboard the Odyssey, though sadly nowhere near as advanced. Where the Asgard original could turn base elements into anything on demand, the Earth built facsimile required the correct elements to be fed in, and couldn't manage anything too complicated. Still impressive though, and more than well suited to churning out pieces of a starship's hull. In fact, it was more impressive than that, as this automated process took part inside another piece of near magical technology; the time dilation field.

As with the nano fabricators, it was an Earth built copy of something the Asgard left behind, and, just as the fabricators weren't as capable as what they had been based on, the same was true here. Alec had been told the system's built by the Asgard could more or less stop time completely, decades could pass inside the limit of its effect in less than the blink of an eye outside it. That however, took a lot of energy, not just the capability to make the device itself, and neither were practical here. And in any case, the final assembly required some human involvement, and it wasn't policy to send his staff into a building that would age them rapidly ahead of their families. So while the components could be produced more quickly than normal, there wasn't much requirement to do that part any faster, at least under normal circumstances. This facility was capable of producing four fully finished 307 class battlecruisers a year, with a sister facility, the Epsilon Site, nearing completion, raising the level to eight next year, but as the war with the Lucian Alliance had gotten ever hotter, there was building political pressure to step up production. It was easy for the politicians to speak in search terms, as it divorced them from what that phrase really meant; cranking up the time dilation field and sending Alec's staff inside it. Sure, he could double production overnight, as long as the supplies of the required metals kept coming, and while he suspected the dedicated, professional people he was privileged to work with would be more than willing to make any sacrifice to keep their distant home safe, Alec still had no desire to be forced into giving the order.

Still, after his lack of pragmatism had resulted in him being literally forced off world, he had mellowed a little in terms of his forthright opinions. The order would come eventually, and he would back down, but for now, he was content to fight for his team. He knew the game that was going on, for all the work the SG teams did sabotaging and attacking Lucian facilities, this war was always going to come down to ships, and that meant how many he could build and how quickly he could do build them. He suspected the strategy was to build up enough of a fleet to be able to destroy a large enough percentage of the Lucian's own to force them to the table. While they undoubtedly had the ability to build ships, and to make modestly impressive technological advances in the process, they didn't, and wouldn't, be able to match the speed that somewhere like the Gamma Site would be able to crank out additional vessels for Earth's fleet. Not that Alec was a man of war, despite the things his company had built, no, he was a man of peace. He was also a man who still believed the Stargate and everything that came with it should be public knowledge, and he also suspected that, once the war with the Lucians was over, maybe, finally, that would happen.

For a moment he pondered going home, as he stood on his rudimentary balcony, looking up at an alien sky, constellations all wrong, the glow of two stars instead of the Moon illuminating the night. He corrected himself, the Gamma Site was home. Though it really needed a better name than that. A number of the team had taken to calling it Vulcan, as apparently, in Star Trek, that world had been in this star system. Alec had never been much of a Trek fan, but it seemed popular, and anything that raised morale in what was a relatively bleak place was popular with him. He screwed his eyes a little, trying to differentiate between the pin pricks of light above him; far off stars, nearby satellites and the odd other planet in the system were all present, but he was looking for his own handiwork. Finally, he noticed two of the lights moving across the sky. Alec grinned, a pair of 307's recently completed on their shakedown cruises were high above him, christened Challenger and Columbia after the lost space shuttles. He almost laughed to himself, space shuttles. It felt like another lifetime, so much had happened, and technology had advanced so far so fast. To think people used to take their life literally into their hands just to travel to and from low Earth orbit, and now, travelling between stars, even the galaxies themselves, was becoming routine. But, for everyone back home, the space shuttle was still the pinnacle of human spaceflight technology.

Smiling again, "One day, they'll know the truth." Alec said to himself.


	8. Taking Candy From A Baby

**Lucian Ha'tack, Gavos' Requiem**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Sarra sat in the Command Throne of the Twelfth Clan's flagship. After consolidating her position among the hierarchy of the Clan, following the murder of her brother and predecessor, she'd seen to it that the ship be renamed in his honour.

Beyond that, the Ha'tack was superficially no different than it would have appeared when it's former Goa'uld owner had sat in her chair; the bridge was the same, rather gaudy gold for the most part, which didn't appeal to Sarra's less extravagant tastes, though she imagined there were more than a few Seconds who very much enjoyed travelling through space in their personal bejewelled palaces. The same control systems, with their almost incomprehensible (to the untrained eye of course) Goa'uld script were everywhere and worse, the more advanced systems that required the presence of Naquadah in the blood. This had represented something of a challenge for nascent Alliance Empire, freed former hosts, renegade Jaffa or enslaved Goa'ulds weren't sustainable options as the size of the fleet ballooned, that demand had led to some rather questionable methods to resolve the issue, and that of use of the more advanced Goa'uld technologies in general, certainly ones that Sarra herself would not engage in, namely the experimentation on captured peoples; attempting to introduce then remove symbionts, implanting the metal, injecting it into organs, tissue or veins. Sarra was not cruel, at least not in her own mind, she was however, ruthless, so she did not reject those who successfully emerged from the process to help crew her vessels. It would be foolish to turn down the results whether she agreed with the process or not, and foolish to hand an advantage to a rival Clan, she reasoned.

Speaking of cruelty, her vessel was on its way to one of the world's the Second Clan had left to starve. Once ruled by a minor Goa'uld, Anuket, Seheil was a backwater world, though it's position near the border between the territory claimed by the two Clans made it more interesting than it had any right to be. Sarra smirked, the chance to rub that young prick Terrin's face in it, while showcasing the strength of her own 'approach' to leadership was a pleasing opportunity. She sat back in her throne, looking out at the swirling blue vortex of the dimension her ship was hurtling through in contemplation. Her more 'just' approach to ruling was in favour with the current First, who shared her disdain for the Second's Second. She expected the inexperienced boy to overreact, so the potential for seizing more of his Clan's territory tantalised her. Sarra kept her cards close however, her brother paid a heavy price for public dissention, so she was careful to allow it to appear she was merely following the wishes of Ventrell, though really, she was pursuing her own plans, it just so happened that, for now at least, they coincided.

One of the bridge crew turned from the controls he operated and informed of her of their arrival to the destination, Sarra's silent nod was enough to signal to drop the ship back into real space. She always found it a strange moment, the ship decelerating from some unfathomable speed in a different dimension back into 'reality' yet, there was barely a judder, no feeling at all. The strange energies that had filled her view for the past few hours were replaced by Seheil. It looked just as unremarkable from this vantage as she knew it to be. Lots of sand, how she hated the desert, and here she was, ostensibly to save a planet sized one.

She got off her throne, the relatively elaborate leather uniform of a Lucian commander wasn't going to be the ideal outfit for the surface of this dustball, but it carried weight, and that was more important than being a little warm. She made her way to the Ring Room, flanked by her loyal guards at all times. Her underlings were already preparing to begin transport of food and other supplies via Tel'taks, but she would take some herself, using the Rings to arrive in the centre of the settlement around the Chappa'ai to full effect.

With a flash of light and the rush of air as the rings receded back into the ground, that's exactly where Sarra found herself. It was warm, almost oppressively so. Bright too, as her eyes struggled to adjust from the unnatural gloom of her starship to the sun scorched rock she now found herself on. The Ring platform was, as expected, in front of the Chappa'ai, which found itself in front of the almost obligatory pyramid that the Goa'uld had been so found of. Otherwise, the usual run of the mill shacks and slums made up the rest of the settlement, at least as far as she could see anyway.

As her senses sharpened, she spotted a grimacing Terrin and his men beginning to approach them. She narrowed her eyes and prepared for whatever the upstart would offer as a greeting.

"Sarra, so good to welcome you to your new home." The boy added a mock attempt at a bow to make matters worse. She considered the ramifications of punching him square in the jaw, but decided the risk to the lives of the rest present was more than the satisfaction of the act would deliver. Though it would be unquestionably satisfying, of that, she had no doubt.

"Hm, I can see why you might think that, given your own collection of dirt balls, you must think that's how we all live." A smile and a mock bow of her own rounded it off.

By now the locals had begun to emerge, shuffling into the streets, but understandably apprehensive to approach too closely. They were a dishevelled mess, tattered rags covered withered frames, coughs and wretches echoed through otherwise quiet streets. Sarra took it all in before glancing back at Terrin.

"Ra's teeth, nobody told you to lavish luxury upon these people, but you couldn't spare them a few morsels to eat?"

Looking somewhat offended, Terrin retorted, "These people are weak by their nature, downtrodden slaves, it's their way, so I left them too it." Sarra's anger was building with each word. "I'm not some monster, Second. I even ordered the healing of the worst of them." The youngster turned, gesturing towards one of his entourage. Sarra hadn't paid him a lot of attention; a man, stood in simplistic robes, silent, unmoving, eyes were milky white, strangely so, then she caught sight of his arms, at least the parts extending from the robes, they were covered in scars down towards his hands, both of which had Goa'uld devices, perhaps forcibly attached.

"What…" Was all Sarra could offer before an answer came.

"Don't tell me you aren't aware of the experiments to harness the False Gods powers? Or are they too much for the Twelfth's sensibilities?" The little prick was grinning ear to ear, an insult and a demonstration of power. The urge to strike him was building again.

The back and forth continued long enough for the Second Clan to withdraw, using the Chappa'ai to travel to their capital world. Apophis knows she had no desire to ever set foot there. The Tel'taks had landed and began unloading supplies, she was almost surprised that they hadn't been swamped by the locals, either they were too ill, too weak or too afraid of the sort of treatment the Second dogs must have been dishing out to them.

Sarra pondered the implications of whatever had stricken these people, was it just malnourishment? Did Terrin really have a man, well, whatever was left of that man, who was capable of using a Goa'uld healing device? Was at a boast? If he had that power, would he really have used it on these poor wretches? If he really had the power, bringing it here to taunt her seemed more likely than an attempted act of mercy, certainly. It was a wider concern that the Second's either had access to resources the Twelfth did not, or worse, they'd managed to 'develop' this ability on their own. That last thought deeply concerned Sarra before she'd even finished thinking it. The more reckless factions towed the line as the 'sensible' ones controlled the means to the technological and scientific development that was needed to compete with the Tau'ri, if they started achieving such things themselves…

Her train of thought was interrupted by the approach of one of her underlings, they had set up their facilities and begun portioning out the supplies to the populace, meanwhile, what they had that passed for medics were moving out into the settlement to figure out whether these people were actually ill, or just starving.

"Second, as far as I can tell, all of the Second Clan have withdrawn. This world is now secure." Memalec, one of her most trusted commanders, who had also served her brother, had been tasked with making sure Terrin's dogs weren't hanging around to try and steal any of the resources that had been brought to this world. "I'm told it will be sometime before we are able to fully evaluate the planet and its population." Looking around somewhat suspiciously, the commander continued once more, "might I suggest you retire to your ship at least until we can guarantee your safety?"

Sarra was a little surprised at the suggestion, "This world is secure, no? Yet you think I could be in danger?"

"There's always danger, Second." Memalec replied with a tone of respect, "and not just from violence."

"Not just?" Sarra pondered where he was going with this.

"What if these people aren't just starving?"


	9. Back to The Diner

**Somewhere**  
 **Nowhere**

"So you're not an… Ancient?"

Nehred was continuing to grill his erstwhile spiritual guide. He wasn't entirely certain how long this had been going on, in one sense, it felt like only moments ago that they had stood on the surface of what was left of his homeworld, but in another, it felt like an age. He now found himself sitting inside one of the strangest rooms he'd ever seen, tables and chairs of a construction he'd never even imagined could be possible, everything in a deep shade of red. He could smell delicious smells coming from somewhere out of sight too.

Perhaps this was the 'diner' that Daniel spoke of.

Once again, Nehred caught himself, he was increasingly finding that he knew things he had never known before. Daniel had tried to explain it to him; that simply being in the ascended realm, as he called it, caused him to steadily absorb knowledge, some of it, Daniel was teaching him directly, but the rest, it just seemed to 'pop' into his mind. It was both incredibly exhilarating, and incredibly terrifying, at the same moment.

"No, I'm just a man, like you. An ascended being helped me to ascend. Well, the first time anyway. After that it was kind of like riding a bike…"

Briefly tempted to ask what a bike was, suddenly the first part of Daniel's statement snapped into Nehred's consciousness, "Wait, first time? What do you mean?"

His expression altered, a sort of reaction that suggested he almost hoped he hadn't said what he had said, or that Nehred hadn't heard it at the least, "Yeah… it's possible to go back, to return to the mortal plane… sometimes… but it's dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"What you call your soul, that passes between the mortal plane and this one, losing its physical body along the way. To return means going through that process in reverse, there's no guarantee it'll work, and even if you pull it off, you may lose the ability to get back here. The soul can get damaged if you try that too often, or even once, for some."

"How many times have you done this?"

"That's not important…"

Nehred reflected for a moment, he had no desire to go back. Go back to what? His planet was gone, never mind the tiny piece of it that was his home. His family, his friends, all dead. He was about to tell his new friend this, but judging by his face it was like he already knew. Instead he decided to return to his original subject.

"Well if you're not an Ancient, are they?" Nehred had become aware of a number of people silently sitting elsewhere in the diner, ignoring them, sitting with their food or reading… newspapers? Is that the word? It felt like the right word to him.

Daniel looked around, almost dismissively, 'These are The Others, or some of them, anyway. They are a faction of the Ancients though, yes."

"You mentioned them before, when we were on my world."

Daniel leaned forward, closer to Nehred, he said he had indeed mentioned them before, it was the name that the ascended Altera had adopted, but there was a time when there had been five groups. He returned to his earlier story, about the fate of those people, three times chased across the stars from their homes. The Others had been the first to figure out how to ascend, and had chosen that option when the rest of their people had fled to the Last City. Nehred thought it was a strange name for a people to give themselves, but apparently it had been given to them by the rest, almost as an insult.

Those who travelled to the Last City remained a single group, with some of their own members choosing to ascend periodically, being absorbed by The Others as they did so. When faced with fleeing their home again, more of them chose to abandon the physical plane. Those Alterans who managed to reach Earth were the few, the afraid, the angry, the scared, of the universe and of the mistakes their forefathers had made and that the increasingly powerful Others did little about.

The discovery of Humans living on Earth, when they reached it, was a moment of profound hope for these people, so when it was discovered this hope had been conquered and enslaved, by a species that had been inadvertently created by Alterans long ago, it broke them.

This revelation shook the survivors to the core, and led to a period of great soul searching and introspection, followed by a great debate of what to do next, between those who clung to hope, and those who had lost it,

It was with great frustration that planet was abandoned through the Stargate located at Terra Atlantus, heading out into the stars, seeking aid from their former allies in their time of need, yet they found none, the legends of an Alliance of races had faded, little trace of them could be found.

The Alterans were alone.

Nehred's mind was working hard to keep up, trying to imagine a story that took place across two different galaxies, aliens, technologies he couldn't even dream of… Yet every new fact surged through his mind like lifeblood, making him feel more, complete?

Daniel carried on, describing how that, in time, several Alterans had returned to Terra, which was what the Ancients called his home, and hid amongst the population. They tried to do all they could to right the mistakes their people had left behind in the past, determined that the second coming of their race would not be the ones to pay for them. Alteran operatives incited rebellion, overthrowing the Goa'uld regime on Earth. They managed this subtly, not only avoiding revealing to the Goa'uld that there was a more advanced race on Earth, but also to ensure that the Humans thought it had been entirely their own doing. It was the spark that had set the stage for all the people of Terra would achieve in the future. Though the being calling itself Ra also believed that to be the case, but, as the Humans were many centuries away from being able to defend against the kind of onslaught a System Lord could unleash from above, there was nothing to stop a vengeful, deposed Lord returning to burn what has been his to ashes.

As Daniel spoke, Nehred found himself being able to picture the words, he could see a mysterious pyramid ship above a planet, even though he'd never seen such a thing before.

The threat of Ra was a problem, the battered Alteran culture had come to put increasing faith in the ability of Humanity to be their inheritors, the ones who would complete the work that they had begun. This one world became the focus for what hope a culture, millions of years old, still had for the future. They were determined to save it, at any cost.

Daniel leaned in closer, "And it cost them, dearly."

Nehred was a little taken aback, instinctively he looked around, but The Others were still sat as motionless as they were before.

Daniel explained that the Alterans had rules that they tried to live by, lines they wouldn't cross, lines they hadn't crossed even when it meant losing their homes and their lives. But that was before. Now, now they broke their rules.

Nehred didn't fully understand this, but Daniel seemed to be describing a machine that could make people forget. The Ancients had made the deposed God forget where Earth was. Apparently, this was a huge deal, though it didn't seem that bad to him. Daniel however was insistent that breaking what had been a forbidden rule was a very serious matter.

With that hanging over them, and the unifying threat of Ra gone, the Alterans that were left shattered. They bickered and argued over what to do next with the primitive Humans. Should they guide them? Lead them? Leave them alone?

While The Others looked down, four factions emerged; those who sought to meddle directly, they believed that the Humans must be advanced as quickly as possible, directly or indirectly so that they may be able to combat the threats that awaited them on as best terms as possible. They feared leaving behind a primitive world to face what lay waiting for them alone. Those who strove to protect, they saw the people of Earth as children, who had to be allowed to develop on their own, naturally, but ensuring they were nonetheless prepared for what awaited them in their future. The third group wanted to protect the Humans, and, given the history of Alteran interventions, that would be best achieved by staying away from them. Finally, the fourth group, a group who had become disillusioned, they saw humanity as being every bit as flawed as they now saw themselves. They hoped to steer the primitive cultures that emerged on a different, more successful path.

Daniel described how all four groups argued, debated and squabbled with each other, with varying levels of anger and disdain to The Others above. It jogged Nehred's mind.

"It sounds like the Ballad of the Gods, from my world."

"Oh?" Daniel seemed genuinely interested, so Nehred told him the story, of the Old Gods who created the sun, the sky and the land. They created the people to live there and then they created their children to watch over them.

Nehred described the Old Gods; The Guardian, who manned the great divide between worlds, The Smith, who taught the people the ways of fire and metal. The Mother, who created all life, The Father, who judged its worthiness. Then, their children, The Warrior, son of the Guardian, who would defend the people. The Twins of the Smith; his Son, who would teach the people the secrets of life, his Daughter, who would heal the sick and so on. Finally, he told of how the children rebelled, against their parents and against each other, of The Warrior, who threatened the innocent, of the Son who worked in the darkness, of the Daughter who made the healthy, ill, of how the New Gods fell after they tried to kill the Old.

By now he felt like he'd been talking for a rather long time, so he decided to wrap it up, "In the end, the Old Gods returned, and with a heavy heart, they cast down their children, dooming them to save the people."

Nehred sat back, it had felt good to tell the story, like it connected him to his home, to his people, to his family. He hadn't noticed that Daniel wasn't actually looking at him anymore. Had he gotten bored? Had he stopped listening? That didn't seem like the man he had gotten to know. Slowly, Nehred followed Daniel's gaze, which was now moving around the room.

Everyone was staring at him.


	10. Lashing Out

**God's Bane**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Terrin seethed quietly upon his throne. Having to give up territory, even if it was a largely worthless rock populated by useless, starving wretches, ate away at him. It was the principal of thing; it was his, then it was not. Taken away on a whim by that bastard Ventrell and worse, given to her, his sanctimonious pet bitch.

They'd get theirs soon enough.

He pondered whether or not he had tipped his hand too much while taunting his fellow Second when he showed off one of his 'new recruits' to her. No doubt she had been convinced that the Second Clan were one of the ones that had yet to fully benefit from Ventrell's 'guest' scientists and advisors. She would have been correct in that assumption of course, but the gambit was that she would suspect those that she thinks of as allies of supplying such resources to other Clans. Divide and conquer, he had been told it was a Tau'ri saying. At last something about the First Worlders that he could appreciate.

No, Terrin's new resources had been obtained by different means. He knew he'd be at or near the bottom of the list of who Ventrell would give anything to, let alone weapons or improved ship designs. He may have been young, but he was no fool. He had travelled far beyond Lucian space, his associates further still. There were people out there, people more advanced than any that the First had gotten his hands on, and while he couldn't, as much as he may have desired, 'acquire' those people for himself, he could hire them.

He remembered the first time well, allowing his mind to wander as his vessel travelled through hyperspace. A mysterious space station, said to have been built by the Ancients themselves no less. His underlings had stumbled across it, apparently a mistaken dialling attempt! It was almost too good to be true, indeed, he didn't know whether to be impressed or to mock his men for them actually telling him of its location. That kind of secret could be very valuable, after all.

Or of course that they didn't have the resources required to hire the skills needed to turn an interesting secret into a power to be reckoned with, and Terrin did.

It was a strange place, ancient, in both senses of the word. It had clearly been patched, re-patched and re-patched again over the years. Quite when its current occupiers had discovered it, Terrin wasn't sure, but they claimed to have been there for generations. Their rule was simple; their station was a place for people to come and sell their services, or to purchase such things, they took their cut, and the millennia old station kept everyone within it secure. As long as they followed the rules, of course.

After his initial thought of storming the station and taking it for himself was knocked out of him with the observation of the automated weapons turrets destroying a vessel just for getting too close in what was a disturbingly short amount of time, instead he refocused on finding the people onboard who could understand such technology, or at the least, maintain it.

What he found were a group of, let's charitably call them, rogue, scientists. Having fled their worlds for a variety of reasons; persecution, destruction, criminality and so on, they certainly weren't in it for the greater good. Terrin didn't much care where they were from or what they may or may not have done. He didn't even recognise the planets or the peoples they spoke of, Aderran, Euronda, Bedroisan, Mak'lant'a, even several non-humans and, strangely, two Goa'uld were among the groups number. The relationship was simple, Terrin would say what he wanted, the group would give their price. Terrin wasn't too concerned whether it was naquadah or slaves that they asked for, as long as he got what he wanted from them. He looked at the two 'operators' that were among his latest purchases, manning the weapons systems of his prized, System Lord class vessel. They weren't especially pretty to look at, their bodies scarred, Goa'uld technology grafted on to their skin and into their flesh and bones, but they could fire the ships main weapons. The False Gods weren't as stupid as many thought, near the end, they had increasingly restricted their vessels systems, particularly the more interesting ones, to being operated by their own kind, and the naquadah rich blood they carried was the key. It had been quite the problem for the Alliance.

Not for Terrin any longer though, he'd even had the operators made suitably pliant, they would follow orders, without question, but they had no thoughts of their own, never mind ambitions, at least as far as he could tell. The last thing he needed was an underling who had the ability to use weapons he could not, no, that was a quick way to find yourself replaced. And dead.

Even better, these, people? Perhaps not, thought Terrin, not any more anyway. Whatever they were best described as, they listened to him, or, at most, a few others if he told them explicitly too. He had a monopoly on where the new toys came from, and full control of them once the Clan got them. Beautiful. Sure, sometimes they acted a little strange, and you wouldn't want to look one in the eye, but still.

Finally, it was a chance to see how his enhancements would perform. After the frustrations with Sarra, he'd taken his flagship and two escort ships on a raid. Nothing like a bit of blood and plunder to perk up a day he thought. The world they were headed toward, Tagrea, was an interesting one. He had been told it was advanced, not like the Tau'ri, but still, advanced enough that they might have some interesting things to take and some useful people to 'recruit' to the cause. Tagrea had been discovered via a cloaked cargo ship, rather than the more usual infiltration via the Chappa'ai, apparently the locals had buried it, maybe even recently. Terrin smirked as he thought that the first thing they'd be doing under his rule would be digging it back up.

They were getting near now, a click of his fingers dismissed his concubines who had been draped around his command throne. It was time for business, after all. He gave the order to man the Deathgliders, hundreds of them ready to rain down on an unsuspecting populace. Unsuspecting, but perhaps not entirely undefended, if the spy reports about possible surface to orbit missiles had been accurate. No matter, survival of the fittest, another of those very rare bits of Tau'ri wisdom.

With a judder and a sudden shift in the light streaming through his viewport, the massive mothership and its accompanying smaller Ha'tacks re-entered realspace. Immediately, Terrin's bridge crew, well, those who still had minds of their own anyway, started relaying information to their commander; artificial satellites had been detected in orbit, energy signatures covered the planet, radio signals radiated out from it like a beacon. Terrin grinned at them all, it may be a risk raiding so far beyond Alliance territory, but this world was ready for the taking. He ordered his underlings to seek out any military targets for initial elimination as he began to see the Deathgliders streaming toward the surface. The two Ha'tacks were moving around the planet, all the better to maximise the amount of landmass that they could bombard at once.

By now, it seemed like the inhabitants had figured out what was going on, judging by the increase in radio traffic that was being aimed towards them. Time to send a message.

Terrin turned his head towards one of the operators and ordered them to fire on the facility that seemed to be responsible for the signals. Seconds later, he felt the energy build in the bowels of the ship beneath him, before a blast of burning plasma streaked out into the void. A flash from the planet's surface confirmed something had been hit, the subsequent drop in radio emissions seemed like suitable confirmation that the intended target had been destroyed.

"Second, I'm detecting projectiles inbound!"

Terrin smirked once more, so they had some fight in them, he could respect that. He'd punish them for it, but he could still respect it. In the distance, he could make out what seemed like exploding Gliders, though whether it was these missiles or perhaps some sort of local equivalent craft that were responsible he wasn't sure. "Shields up," was enough of an order to deal with these incoming weapons. A good test of the Bane's enhanced shields, he thought. A flash against those shields, enough to force Terrin to blink involuntarily, spoke to the craftsmanship of their maker.

"I tire of this. Tell me you've identified the targets? Unless you'd rather find yourself assigned to other duties?" He felt like his tone implied the 'other' duties would involve being turned into one of the naquadah riddled mutes, good motivation for the others on the bridge.

"Yes Second, targets have been transferred to… weapons control." Good, the pause suggests that's what's on their mind.

Turning his attention to the things in charge of his weapons, Terrin ordered them to fire. His trusted Lieutenants aboard the other vessels were doing the same, resulting in a hailstorm of golden, shimmering plasma fire being unleashed against the planet. They were targeting military facilities, but who could be sure from this distance? If a few civilians die, so be it. All the better for these Tagreans to learn who is boss around here now. It would take some time to complete the bombardment before it would be worth going down to the surface in person, he pondered whether he should get his concubines back, when he was rudely interrupted by noise and flashing lights from across the bridge. He was about to scald whoever was responsible, when they beat him to it.

"Second, hyperspace signatures!"


	11. The Battle of Tagrea

**Fraiser**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

The drab, grey corridors didn't really do such a new starship justice, would a bit of a colour hurt? Jonathan was making his way from the Mess Hall back to his post on the Bridge. He was still getting used to his new posting, being surrounded by either featureless grey or never-ending black certainly took some getting used to. As did the greetings and the quickly uttered "Commander" as he passed by other crew members.

He had, for a time, considered avoiding a military career altogether, but as he got older, and with everything he knew, he concluded it was the right thing to do. He'd been busy training towards being a pilot when he'd been selected for Stargate Space Command's new 'fast track' program for developing starship officers. He supposed it made sense, the number of ships in the fleet was increasingly rapidly, and in any case, continuing to tap ex pilots and navy Captains and dropping them straight into what was actually a very different form of warfare had been a policy Jonathan had long questioned. So instead of finding himself stationed aboard a larger vessel as a 305 fighter pilot, here he was, in spite of his relatively young age, First Officer of one of the new 306 class cruisers.

The 306 had been designed primarily to be quick to build, it was smaller than the old 304, and lacked the hanger bays that characterised Earth's battleship designs. Indeed, it looked rather like the 304, but with its hangers removed and its neck shortened. They still packed a punch however, they had the benefit of being designed around the newer Asgard technologies that had been increasingly bolted on to the old class of ship, as well as some new innovations from the boffins back on Earth. Certainly, when hunting in packs, they'd be more than able to handle a Ha'tack, which were the primary concern these days.

Not that they were on a hunt at the moment, an extended shakedown cruise was how the SGC had described it, for the five newest vessels; the Jackson, the Weir, the Kawalsky, the Emerson and the ship he was now on, the Fraiser. So far, all the 306s had been named after fallen SGC personnel. His new shipmates had been surprised at how emotional he'd been at that compared to his usual cocky demeanour.

Smaller ship it may be, but it still took a fair while to get from where the food was to where his job was. At last he entered the Bridge, various crewmembers milling around, some working their stations; sensor consoles, tactical systems, helm and so on. In the centre were the Command chairs, one for himself and another for the next most senior officer present, either side of the Captain's.

"Number One," grinned Captain Gérard. The Commander suppressed the desire to roll his eyes, sure, it had been funny the first time after a late-night drinking session with the Bridge crew when he'd mentioned Star Trek, but the Captain found it hilarious, and it seemed to have stuck.

"Afternoon Captain." He said as he took his seat, though he was quickly distracted by Lieutenant Pavlev sniggering at the helm.

"That's enough out of you, Star Lord." Jonathan'sretort generating more laughter on the Bridge.

"You wear a red leather jacket once and it haunts you for life," replied the helmsmen in his thick Czech accent.

Some more banter flew back and forth between the crew, before the Captain interjected, "Settle down boys, this isn't a pleasure cruise." Just enough to refocus minds, without sucking the fun out of the room.

Jonathanthought she was a good Captain, though she hadn't been at this much longer than he had. She'd been a fighter pilot in the French Airforce, before finding herself in the same program he had attended, albeit a couple years ahead. She'd served as XO on the Apollo for a stint before taking up her command on the Fraiser, though he suspected she'd have her eye on one of the larger 307 battlecruisers before long.

"Are you with us Commander?" Jonathanbroke out of his thoughts and turned to face Gérard, but before he could answer she carried on; "Come now, Number One, we won't get you on the Enterprise like this!"

More laughter.

It was about as uninteresting a time as you could imagine aboard a starship capable of violating the laws of physics, armed with enough firepower to lay waste to a sizable asteroid. The mission was a straight forward one; put the newbies through their paces. They'd left the Delta Site and its shipyards behind, jumped to hyperspace for a solid 12 hours to give them a good workout, and were now cataloguing some star systems, a good few thousand light years away from their starting point. Not that they were expected to find anything of particular interest out here, indeed it had been deliberately chosen; it might not have been Earth space, but it wasn't Lucian space either. No one would go looking for Earth ships here, and nobody expected to run into any hostiles out here either. So, it was dull.

Jonathanwas about to make a quip to that effect when Lieutenant Fredericks began to talk, he immediately shed any notions of joking around, tilting his head in her direction, as a sign of giving his full attention, if nothing else.

"Captain, I'm detecting weapons fire, 6.2 light years distant."

"Who's doing the firing and on what?" The Captain was almost replying before the Lieutenant had even finished speaking.

"Sensors can't get a perfect match, but the energy signatures are closest to Goa'uld plasma weapons."

"The Lucians have been busy again." Interjected the Commander, to be greeted by a raised eyebrow of agreement from Gérard.

"As for where, I'm detecting a planet, cross referencing with the star charts… P3X-994."

Jonathan had already called up the planet in the database on the screen that was built into the arm of his chair before anyone could ask any further questions. "Tagrea, it's inhabited, relatively advanced technologically too."

"I thought there weren't any protected planets this far out?" Enquired the Captain.

The Commander shook his head, quickly scanning through the information, "There aren't, they requested breaking off contact with Earth. Seems like the Prometheus crash landed there, prior to that they didn't even know they had a Stargate, the discovery caused some issues on the planet and they are thought to have reburied it after we left. No contact since."

"Well then, let's see if we'll be more welcome guests this time. Signal the other ships, bring the hyperdrive online." The Captain was at her most impressive when she was like this, calmly, yet quickly, analysing the situation and reeling off the actions that needed to be completed.

"Let's go hunting."

The sublight drives of the five vessels flared, reorienting them towards their target, before their drives tore open a hole into another reality and, in an instant, they were gone. At full emergency dash, they'd cross the 6.2 lightyears in moments. Pavlev having prepared a course that would drop them back into realspace on the very edge of Tagrea's gravity well, and, if the sensor readings had been accurate, right on top of at least one of the suspected Lucian vessels that were responsible for the detected weapons fire. Jonathan's eyes narrowed, he'd faced the Lucian's in battle only once before, while aboard the Odyssey, but he'd… no, they'd, lost a lot of good people to the bastards, this was a chance to make them pay, as well as prevent them from pointlessly slaughtering another bunch of innocent people who were unlucky enough to be stumbled over.

"Hyperdrive disengaging in 3, 2…"

Jonathan focused his mind, issuing orders to raise the shields and ready all weapons. Twin forward beam cannons, as many spatial torpedo launchers and an array of rail guns would be more than enough to trouble a Ha'tack, certainly when there were four other similarly armed vessels in attendance.

Captain Gérard was on her feet as the ship dropped back into realspace, the inertial dampeners more than compensating for the transition. The Commander quickly took in the same scene, three Lucian vessels bombarding the planet's surface, even from this distance he could see fires burning down below. Then he quickly refocused, two Ha'tacks and, damnit, a System Lord class mothership.

"Tactical, co-ordinate fire with the other ships, target the nearest Ha'tack and fire all weapons." Sitting back down into her chair, "Let's see if we can take one of them out before they even get a chance to react."

The five Earth vessels had certainly appeared unexpectedly, powering their sublight drives they spread out from their arrival point, it was mere moments before the unmistakable blue energy discharge of their Asgard beam cannons were tearing across the vacuum of space between them and their target. The lumbering Ha'tack's shields hadn't yet fully raised, nevermind begun to reposition itself to tackle the approaching hostile vessels, when it was hit by a full broadside. The Lucians had improved their technology, yes, but taking even one direct hit by such a weapon without shields up wasn't advisable. Explosions were soon visible throughout the superstructure that surrounded the central pyramid, before it too began to break apart, the reactor within going critical, unable to cope any longer.

Jonathan thumped the arm of his chair in celebration as he watched the remnants of the Lucian vessel burn.

"We're just getting started, Commander." His Captain chided him lightly, as the first weapons fire from the second Ha'tack became visible hurtling toward them. The Earth vessels took evasive action, but all still took at least some hits, the Lucian attack carpeting the area in plasma fire, each impact jolting the shields, which were in turn felt on the ship itself, along with the occasional shower of sparks. Nothing too serious yet at least, thought Jonathan, but that bigger one was a concern.

"Federicks! Do we have anything else in range?" Perhaps they could even up this fight.

"Negative!" The Lieutenant shouted over the sound of more plasma exploding against the shields, "Nearest vessel at least 30 minutes away, but all this weapons fire is throwing off the sensors!"

"So be it," stated the Captain coldly. "We take out that Ha'tack then drive off the big one."

The Earth vessels regrouped into attack formation, dwarfed even by the smaller of the two Lucian vessels, they used it to their advantage, circling it, making it harder for it to target them, and suicidal for the larger ship to risk firing on them for fear of hitting its sister ship.

Solid logic. But these Lucians weren't logical. As the Fraiser swopped out from behind the Ha'tack, after peppering it's shields with naquadah enhanced nuclear warheads, preparing to turn back around for another beam cannon salvo, her sensors picked up incoming fire from the larger mothership.

"They're firing on their own people?!" Jonathan couldn't believe it.

"Then let's not get in the way! Helm, evasive manoeuvres!" Again, quick thinking from his Captain. The Frasier rotated sharply on its axis, inertial dampeners near overloading with the effort, before diving down. The other four trying their own variants, the Emerson and the Weir not quite quickly enough, heavy plasma fire catching them dead on, causing minor explosions and damage to their hulls. A good result for the Alliance, if more fire hadn't hit the already damaged Ha'tack.

The incoming salvo dodged, the three fully functioning 306s turned back around, firing their beam cannons together towards the less protected underside, it was enough to pierce the already strained shields and, with a flash, the second Ha'tack joined the first in destruction.

Should they take this as a win and withdraw, he wondered? Two vessels were damaged, and there was now a very large vessel baring down on them, and god knows how many Deathgliders leading the charge… No, they had to defend the planet below.

"Ready the rail guns, don't waste the cannons or the torpedoes on the Deathgliders." Gérard nodded her approval at her XO's order. She was quickly scanning the screen built into her own chair, receiving and sending updates to the other Captains. She stopped, and triggered the ship wide com.

"All hands, this is the Captain, you've fought well, and no matter what, today will be a great victory. It may be prudent to withdraw, but I will not abandon a planet of millions to the mercy of the Alliance, and I know you will not either. We are about to begin our final attack run, prepare for emergency evac if needed. Good luck to us all."

She cut the com, Jonathan had his turn to signal approval, nodding as her gaze met his own. She gave the order to the helm. The Fraiser accelerated hard, it, the Jackson and the Kawalsky taking the lead, their two injured sisters following slightly behind. They mowed through the Deathgliders, automated rail guns swotting them out the sky like flies, or the heavy oncoming plasma fire taking them out before the Earth ships had the chance to.

"Transfer all available energy to the forward shields!" shouted the Commander, "Take it from life support if you have to, keep us in this fight!"

It felt like an hour till they had entered into weapons range, with a roar from the Captain, the Fraiser fired, beam cannon blasts heading out ahead of slower moving torpedoes, all five vessels had targeted the same area of the ship, one of its extended 'legs' in the hope that damaging it may force them to withdraw. Sure enough, the combined strike was enough to break through the shields, and explosions erupted from the structure. But it sat still and continued firing at them.

"Shields down to 20%!" Another shower of sparks erupted from the wall. He checked his own screen, the Jackson and the Emerson were venting atmosphere. They couldn't keep this up for long. They tore past the mothership at full sublight speed and prepared to bank around for another attack, when, suddenly, ahead of them they could see the unmistakeable sight of a hyperspace window forming.

"Friend or foe!" Shouted the Commander, on his feet in a mixture of excitement and fear. The arriving ship didn't even register to him visually before a blinding flash of light filled the viewscreen, before the whole ship shuddered with the force of a vessel steaming by overhead.

"It's the Enterprise!" Came the answer, as the Earth flagship bore down on the Second Clan's equivalent. It seemed like this was enough to dissuade them from persisting in the fight any longer, as the smaller vessels regrouped and prepared for their next attack run, the Lucian vessel tore open a hyperspace window and fled.

Phew, thought Jonathan, almost out loud, that was well timed. He took a moment to take in the scene of the Bridge, the scent of smoke filled the air, and adrenaline, it had been many of theirs' first battle, and certainly their first battle as a team. He quickly scanned the coming damage reports, shield generators overloaded, power relays blown out, hull damage, some minor injuries, nothing major. Not bad for a first time, Fraiser, not bad for a first time, thought the Commander.

He looked back up in time for the viewscreen to change to an incoming communication. Gérard quickly got to her feet to greet Captain Cameron Mitchell of the Enterprise, Jonathan followed suit, the guy's arrival had saved their asses, after all.

"Captain Mitchell, my crew and I extend their thanks to your spectacular sense of timing." Her more light-hearted nature reasserting itself.

Mitchell laughed, smirking slightly, "Is that you Gérard?" Replied an even cockier sounding tone, perhaps they'd met before, wondered Jonathan.

"Captain Lucille Gérard," she answered, with a warm smile, "And this is my First Officer, Jonathan O'Neill."


	12. The Tagreans Come to Earth

**Homeworld Command**  
 **New York City**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

To say it was a pressured meeting was an understatement. The room was packed, the representatives of the various nations involved in the UNCPD; its ruling Council and their numerous associated assistants, bureaucrats and civil servants, then there were the military, both those from Stargate and Homeworld Command's, as well as leading figures from the national militaries. That was before you considered the representatives of the Protected Planets who were waiting outside, or the Tagrean delegation who were en route.

But for now, the all too common squabbling, bickering and disagreement over the strategy that was being pursued, and how best to prosecute the Lucian War reigned.

"We must take the fight to them! Yuila Noranova, the current Russian delegate demanded. "How many more worlds must burn before we deal with this threat?"

"You would have us send the entire fleet into Lucian space?" The British delegate, Anthony Smith, responded in a more measured tone.

"To save millions of lives? Absolutely." The Russian replied, as always, she certainly sounded sure of herself.

"And risk billions on Earth? Madness." James Thomas, the American delegate, a little reactionary for Richard's taste.

"Then how many more worlds must fall at the Lucian's hand?" It was almost a cliché, that the Russian patriot and the American hot head wouldn't see eye to eye.

"All of them, if it's a choice between them and Earth."

"A lovely message for our allies, Mr Thomas." All that was missing was a roll of her eyes.

"Allies? Bah! We don't have allies! We have responsibilities. We have planets who require our protection, they are not our allies, they cannot fight this fight." Some of the other delegates nodded, there was a depressingly large faction within the Council who weren't thrilled about Earth assuming responsibility for the former Asgard Protected Planets Treaty, or any of the other human worlds that had requested defence and aid from the Tau'ri since. A large faction, yes, but thankfully not the majority.

"And how do you plan to fight this war without the trinium and naquadah that our allies mine for us, Mr Thomas?" General Carter interjected with one of her coolly factual, but no less devastating observations. "Unless you plan to march a few million people through the Stargate and start doing it ourselves, these world's supply us with the resources we need to defend ourselves, and them, in exchange. Of course, that would also mean telling the world the truth too, and we don't need to get started on that again just now, do we?" The General sat back, her point made. She had become an increasing proponent of disclosing everything to the public, and needless to say, there were mixed opinions in the room on that issue, too.

"What would be the point in sending the fleet as it is? This battle was more evidence that the 306 class vessel is not fit for purpose, we need to focus on building more of the now proven 307, as we should have done in the first place!" Colonel Chekov in his familiar, and slightly angered, Russian accent. Another well-trodden argument; the military had never been big fans of the 306 program, with some, like Chekov, viewing it as the progeny of accountants and politicians; it was too small, too stripped back, too cheap. Which was, to be fair, exactly why the politicians had pushed for it. As many ships as possible, as quickly as possible was never going to be a fleet of the full-size battlecruisers that had been asked for, at least not back in the peaceful gap between the end of the Ori threat and the rise of the Alliance. But, as the Lucian's made their presence felt, the 307 program had been stepped up, though not enough for the likes of the Colonel.

"Ladies, gentlemen, please." Woolsey had had enough of the squabbling. "This is not a productive area of discussion." Allowing the room to calm down, the Secretary General continued. "We are here, however, to be briefed on the Tegrean situation, prior to the meeting that the representatives from that world have requested." Turning back towards the General, "General Carter, if you wouldn't mind."

Richard sat back and listened to the General speak, it was, in theory at least, information that everybody present should be familiar with, but he wouldn't wager a large amount on everyone present having read all that they were supposed to. Carter spoke about first contact, the Prometheus' naquadriah core exploding in orbit, the reaction their arrival and the uncovering of the Stargate had caused, a brief assessment of the planet's technological development level, population estimates and so on, before moving on to discussing the Lucian attack itself.

It was brutal, there was no other word for it. The three Alliance vessels had been bombarding the planet for some 15 minutes at the most when they were apprehended, but in that time, they had managed to cause devastation on a scale never seen on Earth in such a shirt timescale. Though they had appeared to have been targeting military installations, nearly a million people were dead or missing in the civilian areas that had been hit along with them. Stargate Command had been pouring people through the Gate to aid in search and rescue, help shore up crumbling buildings, treat the injured and so on. They were also once again carrying out repairs on a damaged Earth vessel, though this time they had been greeted as arriving heroes, rather than surrounded by the gun turrets that had been the calling card of at least one faction of the planets government the first time.

The conversation turned toward the assumption that the Tagreans were coming to ask for membership of the Protected Planets Treaty. Of course, it was unlikely they knew exactly what that was, though he expected that the coming delegates would have been briefed on it, and were by now likely in discussion with the Treaty members outside this very room, but for all intents and purposes, it would be what they would be asking for; protection by Earth's military forces. This largely led to the resumption of the earlier hostilities, between those determined to save innocent human lives wherever they were (or at least be seen to have that opinion) and those whose interest in the human race's well-being began on the Earth's surface and went no further than the ISS in orbit.

Before Richard knew it, some 30 minutes had passed and the subtle but nonetheless noticeable blinking red light built into the desk in front of him signalled that the Tagrean delegation were ready to enter. A subtle nod to an assistant at the door across the room began the process, rising to his feet and calling attention to the imminent arrival of the guests had the added bonus of silencing the rabble.

Being ushered into the room were Chairman Ashwan, leader of the Tagrean people, and Commander Kalfas, a senior military leader. That the former seemed the more enthused at being here indicated that each man's respective view of 'aliens' may not have changed much since the initial first contact years ago.

"Gentlemen, it is my honour, as Secretary General of the United Nations Coalition for Planetary Defence, to welcome you to Earth. I only wish it was under better circumstances."

By now the two newcomers were stood at the 'entrance' to the horeshoe like ring of tables that held the Council. The Chairman stepped forward, thanking those gathered for their hospitality, the selfless defence of Tegrea from attack and the continued support since. Kalfas was trying to subtly scan the room, but seemed to have gotten fixated looking out the one way glass at the city beyond.

"Everything in this room, everything you do, the plight of our people, it's all secret, isn't it?" Interrupted the Commander, gesturing to the glass. "You expect us to trust men who do not trust themselves, or their fellow citizens?"

As questions go, it was probably the most awkward one he could have ventured. Ashwan was already chastising his associate, but Richard felt it deserved a response.

"It's true, the existence of your world, of any other inhabited world beyond this one, in fact, is still a secret to the people out there," Woolsey taking a turn at gesturing to the city outside. "As I understand it, your government came to the conclusion that it wasn't the right time to reveal such information." He paused, more for effect than in expectation of a response from the Commander. "Well, the same is true here. It is not some desire to keep this information to ourselves, nor to exploit it beyond the public glare. No, the reality is, from almost the moment we first activated our Stargate, we have been at war. We have long hoped for a period of peace where we might be able to reveal this secret to the world. We even came close prior to the conflict we now find ourselves in, and I can assure you, once our peace is secured, I will be the first to volunteer to tell the people out there about the work of heroes who have lived and died to defend people like yours, all across this galaxy and beyond."

"Does that set your mind at ease, Commander?"

Ashwan resumed glowering at his compatriot, who turned to his superior, and almost under his breath mumbled, "If we are to seek an alliance with these people, I'd prefer to be able to trust them."

Woolsey wasn't the only one to be surprised at the statement, all the discussion within the room had been in expectation of absorbing Tagrea into the Protected Planets Treaty.

"An alliance?"

Ashwan resumed speaking, "Yes, an alliance. We have learned of your Protected Planets Treaty, we have even spoken with their representatives prior to meeting with you all. As generous an offer as it would be, we feel it would not be right for Tagrea."

"And what would be right for Tagrea?" Thomas asked, eyebrow metaphorically raised.

"With all due respect to the worlds and their peoples that appear to make up the Treaty, Tagrea is different. We may not be able to build spaceships like Earth, but we are an advanced society in our own ways. We aren't willing to have someone else protect us without contributing ourselves." The Commander stiffened his stance at that. "Teach us to build the things you need, allow our armed forces to participate in bringing these criminal Lucians to justice. Together, we can bring peace to this galaxy."

Smiling warmly, Woolsey rose to his feet, "It seems we have much to discuss."


	13. SG-28 on Tagrea

**Tagrea**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Hailey emerged from the wormhole, blinking in the light of a new sun, standing on a new world, the seventy second she'd set foot on, though it would have been preferable to have come to this latest one under better circumstances. As she took up position at the foot of the hastily erected ramp, to allow the batch of supplies SG-28 were escorting to Tagrea to make its way down it, she started to glance around. The Stargate itself was located in what the locals called the Wastelands of Anhur, to the north of the planetary capital. Prior to the Lucian attack, the area had apparently lived up to its name, but now it was home to a makeshift city of tents and temporary structures, accommodating people arrived from Earth to help, and refugees displaced from the city and its outlying suburbs and towns. Hailey understood that similar encampments had sprung up across the planet, ferried from the Gate to their destination by the ships that were still in orbit's transporters. In the distance, she could make out a clearing in the tents, with two 306 class vessels undergoing repairs, one, the more heavily damaged Weir, awaiting more replacement parts from the Delta Site, and the Fraiser, which would be fully operational after the new pieces of hull plating that had come through with them were fitted.

It was then that she noticed the peculiar 'armoured balloon' gun turrets of the Tagrean military pass over head, then the security forces milling around the Gate area, some of them looking a little nervous at the arrival of yet more people from an alien world they'd never heard of until a few days ago. She didn't blame them, lord knows how people on Earth would react if their first knowledge of the universe's true nature was death raining down on them.

She did feel a little guilty, because a part of her was happy to be here, despite the reason for her presence; not least because she could see smoke coming from the city on the horizon. But it was her and the team's first mission since their rescue. She thought about all the healing they'd had to do, mentally, for the most part, for herself and Xiu, who was now stood across from her, offering a smile and nod as their eyes met, and physically too, for Elliott, who was stood at the top of the ramp, and for Stevens, who had just come through the Gate at the tail end of the group. She'd spent weeks badgering the medical staff back at Cheyenne Mountain to sign them off for active duty, then pestering General Carter to agree to it too, who had eventually relented and assigned SG-28 to this operation. It wasn't exactly the front lines, but then part of Jennifer wasn't too sad about that. They could help make a difference here, without running the risk of another stint in a Lucian prison cell. At least for now.

Of course, she wasn't entirely sure how much of a difference she herself would make, SG-28 were basically just here to babysit the delivery of supplies, medical aid for the locals, and pieces of hull for the Fraiser. As the tracked sled carrying the sections of trinium, naquadah and neutronium alloy came down the ramp, she started to walk ahead of it. Xiu to the right, Elliott and Stevens at the rear, heading towards the two ships in the distance. Briefly she pondered the list of alien metals being a bit of a mouthful, and distracted herself from what was a fairly chaotic scene around her thinking up alternative names, triaquatronium maybe?

She was jolted from her escapism by a small child sat in front of one of the countless tents that were everywhere, as far as her eyes could see. He didn't seem particularly injured, a bit dirty, scratches and bruises here and there, though from that she figured he'd been recently brought here, perhaps after having been pulled from the rubble, but it was his eyes that shook her. She could barely stand to look into them, the poor thing must have been in shock, understandably so. She stopped and bent down, smiling as warmly as she could force herself to, he barely reacted, like his brain was still struggling to process what had happened to him. Hailey reached into one of her pockets, god was it good to be back in SG standard issue fatigues, and produced a bar of chocolate. She unwrapped it and broke off a piece, offering it to the child, who looked up blankly at it. He still wasn't fully with it, so she ate the piece herself, making an over the top gesture and expression about how tasty it was… hopefully they had similar ones on Tagrea, before she handed the whole bar towards the boy, who finally reached up with his dust covered hands and took hold of it, tentatively inspecting it before taking a bite. He seemed to ponder it for a moment, before his eyes briefly brightened. Hailey smiled again, before standing up and carrying on with the sled.

If that was all the difference that she made, she could live with that.

Also milling around the refugees and the Earth personnel were Tagrean security forces. She had to admit, she wasn't certain as to why a world that had a single, unified government would have as much apparent military capability when, presumably at least, it had believed itself to be all alone in the universe, till more extensive briefings on Tagrean history and politics had been passed on. Apparently, the single government was a relatively recent event, and there'd even been some violent opposition to it. While that had died down, the knowledge that had been picked up by their encounter with the Prometheus and the mention of the threat the Goa'uld had posed back then had seen that military capability further expanded, with a public cover of guarding against any further opposition to the unified state. They didn't look too dissimilar to regular Earth soldiers, both in how they acted and how they were armed. Sure, they couldn't build their own starships, but it's not like Earth figured that out for themselves either. As she watched those men and women guard over the civilians, some offering helping hands to those who needed it, she decided it wouldn't be too hard to form a proper alliance with these people.

It took a good 20 minutes to reach the ships, the sleds containing the medical supplies having long since split off to their own destinations, retrieved by SG personnel that were already on the planet. They arrived in the clearing in the tents to the sight of them. She'd never actually seen one in the flesh, just sat on the ground like this too, yet here were two of them! The Weir was closest, and in a fairly bad state. Repair teams swarmed all over her, patching hull damage and working on damaged power relays to get her spaceworthy enough to be tractored back to the Delta Site for final repairs. The second ship, the Fraiser, was in a much better condition, the few exterior hull panels that SG-28 had with them would be enough to complete her repairs and return her to full combat ready status.

Hailey smiled briefly, she'd met Dr Fraiser once, all those years ago as a cadet at the SGC. Naming the new ships after those who had been lost, but denied the public tribute their sacrifices deserved was a nice touch, she thought.

She caught sight of a man in Space Command uniform directing a repair crew, he seemed as good a person as any to hand responsibility for this sled over to, so she turned to the rest of the team and suggested they wait while she walked on ahead. She approached the man, by now she could tell he was an officer, as she shouted, "excuse me," at him, as he turned she was able to add a belated "Commander," to her opening greeting.

"Commander Jonathan O'Neill." He replied.

"Major Jennifer Hailey, SG-28." A military first impressions was always an awkward one, she thought.

"Ah, great, then you must have my new bits of hull?" Gesturing towards the sled in the distance.

At the Commander's direction, a few repair techs took the sled off the rest of the team, meaning the mission was basically done. Not the most challenging of endeavours to mark their return to action, as suspected. Perhaps that was a little more obvious on her face than she'd intended, as O'Neill seemed to notice.

"Ever seen one of these before?"

Her attempt at downplaying her response was probably given away by her eyes lighting up. So, the pair began walking towards the extended boarding ramp of the Fraiser. The Commander began explaining how long the ship had been in service and some general facts about it. He seemed quite smart, perhaps even more so than he let on. Surprisingly young for a First Officer, but then something about him seemed older, a sort of reassuring air of experience. As they entered into the ship itself, O'Neill had moved on to talking about the battle itself. He was quite light hearted about it, maybe as a cover, as from reading between the lines of what he said and her own knowledge from reading mission reports, it was a lot more dangerous than he seemed willing to admit.

"I hear the Tagreans are on Earth negotiating an alliance." Hailey released she'd just been listening and nodding along the entire time.

"An alliance? Not sure how that would work…" The Commander's reaction was a little at odds with her own thoughts.

"Well, they seem like good people, and technologically they seem not far off us, well, minus all the alien stuff." She laughed a little, gesturing around them at the ship.

"We've already got one planet full of people running around with stuff a 1,000 years ahead of them, I'm not sure handing it over to another one is that clever an idea." The Commander smirked a little and shook his head slightly. She couldn't figure out why though, not that she'd ever have guessed he was laughing internally at a memory from his other lifetime, of frustration with advanced cultures not being keen on handing over their technology to the SGC back when they'd needed it.

"Maybe not giving them the blueprints for a beam cannon… but they just want to protect themselves. I imagine your ship isn't going to just stay in orbit till the end of the war, is it?"

"For a little while, until the locals feel more secure and we're certain the Alliance isn't coming back."

Curious, Hailey pressed further, "Then what?" Not fully expecting a response beyond, "That's classified."

"Then we'll rendezvous with the fleet. The Lucian's have to be taught a lesson that something like this has consequences."


	14. Lucian Reactions

**Lucia**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Ventrell stood on a walkway, deep in the bowels of the pyramid that dominated the capital's skyline. Beneath it was, what some might term, a dungeon, which was now home to his assembled team of expert 'volunteers.' There were dozens of them, slaving away at various Goa'uld computer terminals, some had been tasked with designing upgrades to the technology the Lucians already had, others were documenting what they knew, in order to disseminate that knowledge, so that some actual volunteers might be able to start carrying the fate of the Alliance's technological development on their shoulders.

After all, the Tau'ri had managed to learn, and even improve on, alien technology that they would never have been able to build beforehand, so it wasn't impossibly for the Alliance to do the same, in time.

The problem with forced volunteering though, was both having to guard them, and having to check up on their work. Granted the latter was mainly an issue with the Goa'ulds, but after having seen one of their number ripped out the back of their hosts neck, the others had become remarkably more pliant. The humans had already been broken by their previous, likely Goa'uld masters. Their freewill gone, they actually seemed happy to be put to work.

In a way, the Goa'ulds weren't too hard to manage either, once you figured them out. Sure, they weren't keen on being forced to do things, but, on the other hand, these weren't System Lords, they were underlings, so this wasn't really that big a change in their lifestyle. What really chaffed them was having a human order them around, but a mixture of brutal punishment when needed, and allowing the more productive ones some tastes of the opulence they were accustomed to had seen the situation stabilise. Upgrades were beginning to spread across the fleets of trustworthy Clans that would shift the balance of power between the Alliance and the Tau'ri.

Trustworthiness was fast becoming his number one concern. Word had reached him from sources of Terrin's attack on a world called Tagrea, far beyond his own territory in a typically ill thought through act of rash stupidity. He was almost pleased that he'd run afoul of a small fleet of Tau'ri vessels, both because the idea of bombarding a peaceful planet for no reason repulsed him, exactly the sort of act that would drive more planets into the arms of the First Worlders, and that it must have taken the dog weeks to limp home afterwards.

Pleasing as that was though, it was likely to cause bigger problems. As much as the pointless deaths of innocent lives displeased Ventrell, he suspected that the Tau'ri would be out for blood. For all their self-righteous arrogance, they had ethics and moral codes that were an alien concept to some of his supposed underlings. If the fury of the Tau'ri could be properly channelled at the more volatile Clans, in the long run things might even improve for the Alliance, but he also knew that Earth made little distinction between them, when the retaliatory strike comes, it could be anywhere.

An equally large concern was the little prick apparently having access to his own advanced technologies. Ventrell would never have agreed to upgunning as volatile a Clan as the Second, yet somehow it had happened. Had he been betrayed? Or was Terrin more resourceful than he'd given him credit for?

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the First's thoughts, turning to investigate, he was greeted by the sight of Sarra, Second of the Twelfth Clan approaching. Good, perhaps she may have some useful information after her encounter with the Second Clan.

"First," she offered a respectful greeting, well, certainly more than most Seconds would offer him.

Ventrell returned to learning on the guardrail, with Sarra joining him alongside.

"How fares your latest possession?" He realised his tone sounded a tad mocking, though he couldn't settle on whether he was aiming it at Terrin's having it taken away, or that the dirt ball could be considered much of a possession worth having in the first place.

Sarra rolled her eyes and sighed, the state that Terrin had left the world in made Ventrell's anger levels rise yet further as she described it. Starving and sickly people everywhere, whatever society they'd once had broken down almost completely. Apparently, she'd considered evacuating the population and being done with it, but after coming to the conclusion that many of the people were indeed sick with something, her advisors had dissuaded her of risking spreading whatever it was elsewhere.

Great, a Tau'ri invasion baring down on us and now, Ra forbid, a plague. Ugh, he shook his head, it was infuriating how, despite having long since found out that the Gods were, well, not Gods, the turns of phrase where stuck in his head. A habit hard to break.

"You've heard I take it?" Sarra interrupted his train of thought with a slight change of subject.

"Stupid prick."

The pair laughed, there may be at least an element of distrust, misdirection and deceit between any leaders of the Alliance, but their shared disdain for Terrin was something both could trust in.

"The inevitable Tau'ri retaliation would have been almost worth it if only they'd put the little bastard out of his misery."

"So, you think they'll come?"

"Just as we have our internal politics and squabbles, so do they." Ventrell paused, "They'll come."

The conversation shifted to Sarra's hope that the Tau'ri would invade Terrin's space and some jokes around where would be best to be destroyed in return for his idiocy.

"I also hear that his ships performed surprisingly well." Ventrell glanced towards Sarra, with a slightly suspicious look. He had little reason to suspect Sarra would have anything to do with it, but still…

"Hmmm I heard the same from my own sources." The power plays never stopped, even among supposed allies, "Certainly, he had some unusual, assets, on that planet we took off him."

Sarra then filled Ventrell in on the shuffling abominations that had been with Terrin's party, her suspicions that it was something distinct from the work that had been going on in the rooms underneath them. Far cruder, far crueller, than even the creations of the disgruntled Goa'ulds that worked away in this glorified prison.

"So if he didn't get his enhancements from me, nor from any Clan I've shared them with, where exactly did he get them from?"

Neither of them had an answer for that.


	15. An Ancient Knew Your Great Great

**Somewhere**  
 **Nowhere**

The pair had relocated, probably wisely, as far as Nehred could tell. Apparently, Daniel had only seen The Others move like that in the diner once before, it hadn't been good then, so it likely wasn't good now.

Instead they found themselves in another place of Daniel's choosing, his second home, he said. Sand in every direction, as far as the eye could see. Only a pyramid in the distance gave some sense of orientation. Strange creatures, covered in long matted hair shuffled across the dunes, while a breeze, such as it was, offered little respite from the intense heat. When Nehred enquired as to where it was, a somewhat sullen Daniel replied they were nowhere.

A dead world then, like his own, yet here in the ascended realm, this Abydos, as he called it, still lived. Well, it sort of did. He was still getting his head round how this stuff worked. Regardless, they were alone again, and able to continue their discussion in peace. They were walking across the sand, towards the pyramid, when, clearing a particularly large dune, Nehred noticed a tent ahead of them. Being used to much cooler temperatures, the look on his face was enough for Daniel to suggest they head inside.

It seemed that Nehred's brief telling of his people's myths had struck a nerve with The Others, and that it had something to do with their own history. Daniel was comparing what he'd been told with what he knew as they sat down inside the structure. It was, mercifully, much cooler in here, though given this entire world may or may not have been created by Daniel's mind, he wondered why his companion couldn't have just lowered the temperature himself.

According to Daniel, many of Earth's ancient cultural beliefs and legends were based in fact, whether it was inspired by the Ancients or other, benevolent races, or warped and corrupted by darker ones like the Goa'uld, then spread across the galaxy by the humans who were taken from the first world. Some more than others 'got things right' or at least, more right than the others. Nehred's people in particular, appeared to have turned the Ancients troubles after returning to the Earth into a mythologised struggle between Gods.

Daniel then began comparing the beings Nehred had mentioned with Ancients that he knew to have existed. The Father may have been an Alteran by the name of Uranus, a leader of the Avalon Empire who had been among the first to ascend. Mars, a General of the Alteran military who stayed behind to fight off the Wraith while his people escaped was likely the inspiration for the Guardian. The Smith, an Alteran named Prometheus, who lived among the people of the Earth, spreading knowledge, and was responsible for leaving something Daniel called 'repositories of knowledge' across the galaxy for humans to find sounded intriguing, the idea that a being Nehred had thought a God used to live and work with people no different than him! Incredible!.

When he reached The Mother, Daniel sighed, "Oma," he called her, it must have been her real name.

"You knew her?"

"It was her who ascended me, her who taught me, and, in the end, she sacrificed herself to save the galaxy." Daniel looked saddened describing his lost mentor.

"Then it seems she lived up to the myths my people had of her." Nehred smiled, and it seemed to cheer Daniel up a little.

Certainly cheered up enough to carry on, all these 'Gods' where among the Ancient population during their first spell in Avalon, some had ascended by the time they returned, some had not. They were leaders, soldiers, thinkers, artists and so on. Then there were the new generation, Alterans who had no memory of what was a strange new galaxy to them, born in Atlantis, some followed their 'parents' ways, some rebelled against them.

They bickered and argued over what to do with the humans, which caused them to fracture into groups, Daniel went back to talking about the factions they had then splintered into, the first were ones who sought to directly influence the people of Terra, and where led by The Smith; Prometheans.

They lived among the humans in secret, through myth, legend and story they spread the history of the Ancients into the cultures of the new civilisations that arose after the fall of Goa'uld tainted Egypt; the Greeks and later, the Romans would take much from these tales of the Alterans. Daniel paused and mused that Nehred's own ancestors likely came from one of these peoples.

The Prometheans determined that if Humans were to inherit the Altera's place in the Universe, they must be prepared to meet the many trials and challenges that would face them, not least the righting of the wrongs that lay in wait among the stars. These early tales helped to shape and forge the culture of the two most advanced societies that Earth had yet produced, inspiring the Humans that lived within them to develop, question and discover. Many human societies would later take the words of Prometheans to heart, believing them to be the teachings of the Gods, the creators who made man and bequeathed him knowledge were common themes in many cultures, spread by both Alteran and Human alike.

"Like mine."

"Like yours." Daniel smilled a little.

Their group were opposed to varying degrees by the other three major factions, who were either against any direct meddling in the lower plains, or simply the Prometheans chosen approach, though as long as they skirted a line that prevented The Others taking an interest, these actions were tolerated, as the Prometheans defended their ways as ensuring Humanity would follow the path of the Altera, rather the path of the Ori, for clearly, as their own species had had that potential, then so too must this new evolution.

Prometheus, The Smith, was a great scientist and philosopher, from who the group derived their name. Prior to the return and liberation of Terra he had worked on the rebuilding of Alteran civilisation elsewhere in the galaxy. Like others among his group he despaired at the fate Humanity faced across the stars, and while accepting that in their current state, there was little his people could do on such a scale, he dreamed of supplying the tools and knowledge that would allow the Humans to free their brethren from the Goa'uld's yoke.

His people spread many myths and legends of the stories of the Altera, to inspire and encourage the development of different societies, in particular those who identified themselves as Greek. Among the many tales and epics, the legend of Atlantis, the Last City, was notable.

The Prometheans sought to inspire, yet warn their human cultures, a tale of the wonders of the Last City, which changed to the Lost City over time, to reflect the tragedy that had befallen it, but woven in the hints at its demise at their own hands, one that became so ingrained it survived the millennia until Daniel helped to rediscover it. Daniel pondered that he'd never have been able to find Atlantis, if Ancients loyal to Prometheus' vision hadn't left behind the tools and clues that had been needed.

Prometheus found himself in increasing conflict with the ruling Council, their toleration for what began as the passing of stories and myth on to the Humans began to be pushed, as those among his group began offering more than stories to the Greeks, improved metal making techniques, changes to education and mathematical principals, though so simple as to not even require explaining to Alteran children, they represented great leaps for the early scientists and thinkers of Greece.

This friction between the Prometheans and the The Others would intensify, but with no unified position among the Altera the situation continued for many years, albeit the blink of an eye for beings as long lived as they were, the far shorter lived homo sapiens were changing rapidly.

The second faction were led by Daniel's friend, Oma, and called themselves the Abeona. As a group, the Abeona sounded like something of a contradiction to Nehred, both in favour of, yet opposed to, intervention in the human world.

Their stated goal was to steer humanity onto the path of enlightenment, and above all, away from the dreaded Ori. The Abeona were the most widespread of the Alteran groups on Earth, using their advantage in numbers to spread beyond the societies of Europe into Asia and beyond, fostering the beginnings of concepts and belief systems that would endure for thousands of years relating not only to the quest for enlightenment, knowledge and truth, but hardwiring in a primal fear of the Ori, weaving tales of realms of flame and demons being the place for the doomed and the damned from the legends of the hated kin on ancient Celestis.

"Like the land of the damned, where the souls of the wicked would be condemned."

"Yes, many human cultures have this idea of places of fire and brimstone being something best avoided, and that's exactly the imagery the Ori used for themselves. I guess it was a bit of an insurance policy from the Abeona for the future." Replied Daniel.

Their leader, Oma Desala, was one of the most powerful non-ascended beings at that point, she, like many other Abeona were actively holding off their ascension, fearing that their work was not yet complete. Among this large group were others who would go on to play key parts in the struggles to come, Saraswati, Juno and the son of Uranus, head of the ruling council; Zeus, and his own son; Heracles, a mistranslation from his Alteran name which meant first son, having been the first child born following the return to Avalon. As a group they worked to leave clues and gifts for humanity to uncover in the future, having foreseen great conflict and strife to come in the future for the peoples of the Earth.

Fear of the power of Alteran technology being harnessed for dark purposes as the Goa'uld had done led to great debate among the Abeona, how to prevent the Goa'uld, or indeed their co-opted human populations from gaining access to the great power they could bequeath, but allow the Terran humans the potential to harness it in the future. In the end, the choice was obvious, but controversial.

The tincidunt gene as they knew it, or the ATA gene, as Daniel called it, was a specific marker in Alteran DNA that allowed the bond between being and machine that had become the standard security measure on the more advanced technology that still remained available to the Altera in the physical universe. Much effort was expended searching for a way to introduce it into Terran populations, but with limited technology and the watching eyes of the ascended looking on, only one solution was easily attainable.

The Abeona began to interbreed with Human populations, still being lifeforms of the material plane, it was argued that this did not break any of the early laws of interference as none of the Abeona had yet to ascend. Though this would change as their need for a voice in the higher domains when the conflict between the factions intensified, with Heracles and others completing the steps required to ascend.

Despite this desire to engage and live amongst the humans, they firmly opposed the sharing of advanced knowledge or technology, reasoning that man must walk the path of enlightenment alone, they sought simply to point the species in the right direction.

Of all groups, the Abeona had by far the largest influence on Earth's history and, by extension, countless worlds beyond, both in the myths and legends they left behind, and through the last of their kind to walk the path.

Nehred was taking it all in, comparing it to the stories and tales he had grown up on and trying to process the truth that had inspired them.

The third faction was comprised almost entirely of ascended, The Others, save for a few of their number still in the material plane who agreed with their rules, though these individuals had all entered into the final stages of the ascension process. Often living in isolation, deep in meditation as they pursued their goal.

When you consider this groups motives, said Daniel, it is worth thinking about just what it meant to be an ascended being at that stage of history. The Others were themselves made of two main groups; Altera who had ascended during the Wraith war or as an alternative to returning to Avalon with their brethren, The 'New' Others, and the rest where those who had chosen ascension over leaving Earth's galaxy, millions of years before, The 'Old' Others.

The Ascended realm is not one single plane of existence, rather it is many. Different levels are attained as an individual makes their own journey along the path of enlightenment, with each new level a greater depth of knowledge and associated power is attained. To The Others, these newly ascended Altera were viewed much like how the newcomers themselves viewed Humans; they must be left to their own ways, save for being nudged in the right direction. So while one group, in terms of beliefs and goals, The Old Others, led by Uranus, were the real power.

While many Alterans had been confused, even angry, at their ascended kin's failure to act against the Wraith as their civilisation was torn down for the third time, the newly ascended began to conform, adopting almost uniformly to The Others' policy of non-intervention, broadly speaking, though many had become jaded, mixing a pride in all that the Altera had achieved, combined with seeing their species many achievements either crumble or turn on them. The newer Others had all been born in the Pegasus Galaxy, other than a few who could remember back to the exodus from the Milky Way, making them the oldest of the four factions in terms of the age of its followers. Having never walked among the humans of this galaxy many felt little attachment to them and sought to isolate themselves from the issues of the material plane, though their placing within the higher realms made that harder.

"Placing? You mean the levels you spoke of?" Enquired Nehred.

"Simply put, the higher a level of enlightenment reached, the further a being is from the material plane, to the oldest ascended beings the lower planes of their own reality were barely noticeable, never mind the slightest of memories of a corporeal existence. The New Others occupied only the lowest levels of their reality, and thus retained a strong connection to the material world, they could 'sense' it, being able to observe and watch events unfold as they saw fit, many even had children who still walked the mortal path." Explained Daniel.

While pushing for non-intervention, their faction included the Council, the nominal government of the Alterans, the wisest and oldest of the faction sat on this body, led by Uranus, a former politician from the old Alteran Empire, who had forged the Alliance of Four, who would be interpreted in human tales as the Father of the Gods, alongside other prominent former military personnel, politicians, scientists and philosophers including Mars, Minerva, Moros and Athena. The Council attempted, where possible, to balance the views of the other groups, often able to find common cause with the Abeona, they greatly opposed the other two primary factions. In time, a number of the newcomers found representation within it, further smoothing their integration into The Others vision of ascended society.

Though lacking the powers of those in the higher planes, several New Others, notably Moros, advocated using the abilities they did have to 'remove' the more troublesome Alterans from the mortal plains. Though these proposals found great support, they faced a similar issue to those below them; rules could be bent, but crossing a line risked incurring the wrath of those on high. These arguments between the New Others and the Old Others within the Council would be remembered in the myths and legends of human cultures; tales that speak of battles between the gods, deities being usurped or replaced stemmed from these debates and discussions. As far as The Others determined, those who had never ascended were not bound to their own code of non-intervention. They were more focused on keeping the new arrivals on the path to increase their own numbers, having long since become aware of the hated Ori's presence in the ascended realms. The risk of a new generation of ascended falling into the ways of the dark kin was unthinkable, the entire concept of non-intervention had been created to prevent the situation from ever beginning.

"Ways of the dark kin?"

"Yes, the Ori discovered that the worship of mortals empowered ascended beings, this repulsed The Others, and they were determined to avoid it at all costs."

"But, didn't my people, sort of, worship them?"

"We'll get to that later..."

The final faction were the most radical, even at the beginning, but also the smallest. As the Altera returned to Avalon, finding a new human race largely enslaved by a species they created, wielding technology they had left behind, created anger in a number of the Ancients. At first this anger was directed towards the ascended, at The Others for failing to use their power to intervene, to destroy the Wraith, to obliterate the Goa'uld.

Led by a particularly disgruntled former soldier, Thanatos, the Thanatosia largely disconnected themselves from their fellow Alterans, venturing out into the galaxy in order to acquire the power they felt they needed to right the many wrongs they saw their people having perpetrated throughout Avalon and beyond. Other than a few like Thanatos himself, the grouping was largely composed of young, in Alteran terms at least, headstrong and radical individuals. Frustrated at the power their kind could wield, frustrated that they chose to skulk in the shadows, frustrated that they ignored the plight of those still on the mortal path.

This make up caused several issues, firstly, they lacked the thinkers and scientists so common among the other factions, forcing them to search the galaxy for any hints of old Alteran technology still in existence, rather than simply developing their own. Secondly, their generally younger age combined with the disconnect from their fellow Altera coupled with the increasing radicalism of their elders began to foster a feeling of standing apart. Annoyance at the inaction of the ascended slowly mutated into a disdain for the Altera in general, as they travelled the galaxy, observing the horrors of the Goa'uld, the ruins and technology of their own people scattered across dozens of planets, as well as being raised on tales of the horrors of the Wraith and stories of the fiery brethren on Celestis.

As they travelled from world to world, at first they freed a number of human populated planets, using what technology they did manage to scavenge to destroy the Goa'uld they discovered. In time however this drive too began to twist, from viewing the humans as suffering at the hand of Alteran mistakes, as they observed humans gleefully working for the Goa'uld who oppressed them and taking pleasure, even joy from turning on their own kind, they came to see humans as nothing more than a new Alteran mistake waiting to happen.

In time, their people returned to Earth, finding their former brothers and sisters among them, beginning to fight among themselves over what to do with the primitive people that inhabited the planet. For the most part, all three of the other major factions disgusted the newcomers, from the ardent non interventionists, to the moderates and the small faction of interventionists, all represented what they hated about those they increasingly saw as a different culture, both hating those who had power and refused to use it, and hating those who used their power, believing the Altera, even with good intentions, to be incapable of causing anything but more grief in the galaxy.

As many of their number began to explore the planet and interact with the humans, they resolved that if this species was to 'succeed' the Altera, then they must change, for even in their primitive state, they saw them to be nothing more than a new creator of misery yet to come. They must be better, stronger and prepared to deal with the many horrors that waited in the Universe beyond, the Goa'uld, the Replicators, the Asurans, the Wraith, the Ori and even the Alterans themselves.

As they scoured the galaxy for a means to do just that, they resorted to what methods were available in the meantime; infiltrating an Earth society in order to determine just what could be done with the Humans. Placing themselves between Altera influenced Rome and Greece, the Thanatosia arrived in a land Daniel called Sparta.

Eschewing the subtler methods of the other factions, several Thanatosia took up prominent positions in Spartan society. Under their rule they set about rapidly creating a strictly controlled, militarist state, washing away the traditions of the natives and creating a uniquely structured way of life, Spartans were bred to recognise their superiority over the other humans, the Thanatosian leadership hoping to replicate what had happened to their own group. Lacking the ability to do what some of the most radical of the faction wanted, to more drastically alter Daniel's ancestors, the Spartans were encouraged to practice a form of eugenics, both in the children they raised, and in those they allowed to participate in their society.

In time, these people began to view non-Spartans as lesser beings, taking them as serfs, openly using terror and violence against them at a whim. Their prodigal culture was being bred for war against those who had found favour from the other factions. As has all too often been the case throughout history, remarked Daniel, the Thanatosia, after observing the darkness and horrors of the Galaxy for so long, were becoming that which they had set out to oppose.

"In the end the actions of three Alterans, Pandora, Tantalus and Prometheus himself would contribute to the end of the cold war between the factions and spark a conflict between them that would leave only two factions of their people remaining."

"Pandora and Tantalus? Who were they?" The names were obviously unfamiliar to Nehred.

"I'm guessing you know them as the Twins of the Smith…"


	16. Dissent in The Ranks

**Oluk'ra**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Terrin was still pissed. It had taken forever for his damaged mothership to limp back to his territory, the ship itself still hadn't even made it to his shipyard for repairs, but he had elected to bail out and return to his capital world via Chappa'ai once he was safely in Second Clan space. He had been holed up in his quarters in the palatial pyramid he called home since his return, venting his frustrations, Needless to say they were now in as a good a condition as those he'd left behind on his ship; trashed.

The 'staff' would tidy it up once he left of course, so the mess was of little concern to him as he stepped over smashed pottery and discarded clothing, making his way towards one of the many windows that bathed the room in the reddish orange glow of his homeworld's twin stars.

Bad enough to have lost two ships, worse to have missed out on all the loot he'd intended to obtain, but the most frustrating issue was that his underlings were getting restive. Turns out getting a bunch of their friends, family and associates killed with no profit to take the edge off was a bad strategy.

He was vulnerable, and he didn't enjoy the sensation. His guards followed him everywhere now, at all times. A mixture of the few men he trusted without question, and some of the thingshe'd acquired. Trust wasn't an issue with them. Indeed, their blind obedience to him could well be what would buy him the time needed to retighten his grip on the Clan. Three times he'd been threatened during the voyage back, that he'd noticed at least. Underlings angry at the loss of someone who mattered to them no doubt. Strangely he wasn't particularly angry at them for it. They died for it of course, don't mistake a lack of anger for any sort of tolerance for such things, but it was the way of the Clan. Terrin hadn't even needed an excuse of bereavement when he'd murdered his predecessor, no, he'd failed, that had been enough. He looked weak, so he deserved it. The fact that Terrin had succeeded was evidence enough of that. Sure, Terrin felt weak himself at this moment, but as none of his would-be successors had succeeded in killing him, then clearly, he was not in an irretrievable situation.

Solid logic, reasoned the young Second.

He had grown up in the shadow of the pyramid he now called home. An abandoned child, cowering in tattered rags among the slums that sprawled in every direction, as far as he'd been able to walk in those days. Oluk'ra was a brutal world, and he'd made no effort to improve it since taking control. While some who grew up in such a harsh environment may have been inspired to ensure future generations would live better lives, Terrin saw his own upbringing, one of fighting with fellow street kids for food, honing his criminal senses with the necessity of a near constant fight for survival, developing a killing instinct back in a time when he was scarcely old enough to hold a blade, and all the other uncountable horrific experiences that had made up his formative years as being things that made him strong. They made the others, well, the ones who survived at least, strong, and strong recruits for the Clan in turn made for a strong Clan.

More solid logic.

He needed to get out in front of this. By now, the other Clans would invariably know, so it was important to own it. Being beaten by the Tau'ri was awkward for a man who had intended to position himself as the leader the Alliance needed to truly fight the First Worlders, but it was not as bad as it sounded, at least once he made his case to those open to his views.

After all, his enhanced ships had managed better against the Tau'ri vessels than any normal Lucian craft had any right to expect. The Second weren't the only ones yet to benefit from Ventrell's upgrades, so it could still allow him to manoeuvre himself into a dominant role over the other, more aggressive clans. Not as easily as if he'd returned with ships full of plunder, technology and boasts of smashing apart Earth starships, but, Terrin did enjoy a challenge.

He'd face that challenge soon enough.

In the spirit of 'getting out in front of it,' he'd summoned the leaders of the Clans that were more amenable to his own galactic view, or at least ones that weren't keen on following Ventrell's.

Navar of the Fourth, Karug of the Tenth, Serrac of the Fourteenth, Latollen of the Fifteenth, Kollai of the Sixteenth, Gerrin of the Seventeenth had been invited and would undoubtedly come. Terrin had swithered over inviting the enigmatic Kefflin, or the relative unknown Qita, but, in the end, had decided against it. When in a potentially weak position, inviting a mysterious master assassin and a woman who just murdered her predecessor for a defeat at the hands of the Tau'ri was a step too far even for someone as willing to take risks as he was. Still, having seven clans, including his own, would represent a significant force. Should he be able to rally them to his cause, he was certain that Ventrell would fail to raise even an equally sized force that would actively fight for him.

First the Alliance, then the Tau'ri. It should have been obvious before, but he'd learned the lesson in the end. Attacking them with one Clan was not enough.

Even though it had been some time since the last smashing noise had echoed out into the corridors beyond, it was an extremely timid and nervous voice that spoke from the edge of his quarters. Standing looking out a window on the slums below, Terrin didn't even bother to look at the slave, merely offering a curt, mumbled acceptance of being informed of the other Seconds arrival below. Turning sharply, he made his way out the room, pieces of broken pottery and other ornaments further crunching under his feet, the poor wretch quickly getting out of his way, bowing as his leader swept past.

"Clean this up."

The meeting room below wasn't much different to the one they had gathered in on Lucia, the Goa'uld were fairly consistent in their tastes after all, a throne room, bedecked in gold and jewels, but with a large table added in the empty space in front of the elevated throne that dominated the space. As Terrin entered, the other seven were already seated. While Ventrell seemed to favour eyeballing his guests as they arrived, Terrin preferred to keep his waiting. Tempting though it was to take his usual seat upon the Second Clan throne, he took an empty seat at the table with the others, which drew the odd slightly raised eyebrow from his gathered audience.

"Thank you all for coming at such short notice."

"And miss you trying to excuse your beating at the hands of the Tau'ri? Not a chance!" Grinned Serrac.

Terrin forced a smirk to his face, it was inevitable someone was going to land a jibe, of course, part of him desired to hurl the blade that was strapped to his right ankle into the Fourteenth Clansmen's eye, but he tried to think of how he would have behaved in his place, suppressed his murderous desire and determined instead to follow his plan.

He could always kill the impudent dog later.

"Hm, yes, it's true, I lost two vessels to the ships of the Tau'ri." He wondered if his forthright honesty would surprise any of those present. "But, I lost them doing what we do, an unclaimed, undefended world, ripe for the taking. Is that not the Lucian way?"

The other Seconds at least murmured along in agreement, perhaps unsure where he was going with this. "It's been the way of the Alliance since the Clans fought over the last food in Lucia's streets. We take. I saw something of value and I tried to take it. This was no Tau'ri outpost, no member of their Treaty of Protected Planets," some of the group rolled their eyes or snorted with derision at the Tau'ri's typically arrogant, self-aggrandising way of describing their own version of an empire, what was a group of primitive worlds toiling away for their superiors if not an empire? "I was unlucky they were in range, yes, but regardless, they are determined to stop our way of life!" Terrin slammed his fist into the table to emphasise his point. It was clear the others agreed, body language had softened, positive nods and determined looks answered his rallying cry, but he wasn't finished yet.

"And they aren't the only ones." A slight pause for effect saw the now more energised Seconds quieten back down, "Ventrell, our First, supposed leader of the Alliance." Some eyes narrowed, shoulders tensed, nobody here had any love for the First, but there was a difference between dissent and rebellion. This was a risk for sure, but forced back into a corner, Terrin had chosen the only outcome he could comprehend, the only outcome a mind that grew in the harsh, crime ridden slums of a dark world could even countenance.

To come out fighting.

"He sits on the throne of Lucia, and urges restraint against our enemies! He sits on the throne of our forbearers, and preaches that we share our wealth! He sits on the throne of False Gods who died, at our hands, and tells us that we must teach, that we must farm, that we must make peace!" The feeling of agreement was back in the room, perhaps he would get away with this…

"I can respect the Tau'ri." A bit of a bombshell perhaps, "They are what they are, but Ventrell… The Tau'ri fight our way of life in battle, in the open, but our leader fights our way of life from within, in the shadows!" Vigorous nods and barks of agreement invigorated Terrin, who pushed on in response. "The Tau'ri attack our worlds, cripple our shipyards, destroy our drug shipments, and our great First frets about training scientists?! Does he hope to beat the First Worlders in a battle of brains?" Laughter roared from the ensemble.

"We have to show the Tau'ri our strength! Make them see the price of crossing the Alliance!"

Terrin sat back, it seemed he'd, if anything, underestimated the others disdain for the bastard Ventrell, all it had taken was for one to provide the spark.

Navar, a relative of Kiva, who was thought lost aboard the Destiny, was unsurprisingly among the most enthused, "The Fourth support you, Terrin, despite your recent… setbacks. But, how do we potentially facedown two technologically superior foes? The Tau'ri's capabilities are something you should be all too familiar with, but Ventrell, for all we oppose his beliefs, he controls the access to what we would need for that fight, and he arms his vessels and those loyal to him with that very technology."

Smirking once more, but this time for real, Terrin responded to his fellow Second, "Oh, I have a solution…"


	17. Looking After The Neighbours

**P4X-774**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

SG-28 had arrived on P4X-774, better known as Ordigall to its inhabitants, escorting a team of medics from Stargate Command. Ordigall was one of the least developed members of the Protected Planets Treaty, a responsibility that Earth had inherited from the Asgard upon their demise. What had been a group of 27, mostly primitive worlds had steadily grown, to the 48 members that had obtained membership today, with even more either actively petitioning for membership, or simply requesting aid or protection from the Tau'ri.

Or Midgard, as the Asgard influenced natives were more likely to say. Much work had gone into convincing them that, not only were the now departed Asgard not gods, but that the Earthers were not either, despite their advanced technology. As a world, Ordigall was largely self-sufficient, other than occasional traders visiting through the Stargate, it was a bit of a backwater. While the SGC had been able to slowly introduce some basic medical care, more advanced metal making techniques and other bits and pieces that were of interest to the locals, the primitive state of their society had kept the population low, less than 100,000 people on the entire planet, almost all of them a few days journey from the Gate.

While it was a nice enough world, the climate made Major Hailey think of Northern Europe; wet, a little windy and not as warm as she might like, there was little in the way of interesting resources, at least as far as SGC survey teams had yet discovered. Lots of steel, aluminium, coal, even gold, but no naqudadah, no trinium, no neutronium. It would be crazy to people back home, that even if she stumbled across a few tons of solid gold here, Command wouldn't deem it worth the effort. Those other three were worth their weight in, wait, she corrected herself, not gold… Probably worth their weight in themselves, there were no more valuable substances than those in the galaxy, as least far as the SGC was concerned.

Maybe she'd keep an eye out for some gold she thought, smiling to herself.

That lack of interesting resources meant there'd been no reason to set up a base or a colony, no political will to do more than ensure the natives could survive as they had been and no strategic interest beyond ensuring the Lucians didn't try and use it a bridgehead for an attack into the rest of the PPT. Though for the most part, the Lucians seemed to avoid attacking member worlds. Hailey wondered if perhaps the fear the Goa'uld had of Asgard aligned worlds had been passed on into the Alliance, or maybe they thought such an incursion would result in a more serious retaliation from Earth than they were willing to risk.

The Ordigallans had been given a GDO should they ever need to get in touch, otherwise the SGC checked up on them from time to time, as they did with all the PPT worlds. SG-28 weren't here for a routine inspection though, they were here with a team of medics from Command in response to reports of a sickness that had taken hold. Alongside the team were another four, one Doctor and three nurses. All of them had taken the precaution of wearing hazmat containment suits, which hopefully wouldn't scare the locals any more than they may already be. Thankfully, the technology had advanced beyond the older style plastic suit, instead they weren't visually all that different from her usual SGC fatigues, other than the gloves and the helmet that ensured she was sealed off from the outside world, and the oxygen pack and filtration system on her back that stopped her from suffocating.

They hadn't been greeted at the Gate, which wasn't a great sign. She'd read previous mission reports about teams being welcomed by excited children who'd come running once they heard the noise of an incoming wormhole. Maybe it wasn't just her who had a habit of introducing offworld kids to the delights of chocolate… She had some in her pack, though with each step she feared she might not get to give it out this time.

While it was still good to be on missions, Hailey found herself longing for the more traditional sort; exploring some ruins, hunting for new technology, meeting newly discovered populations or even running into some unexplained, crazy phenomenon, invariably left behind by the Ancients.

As long as it didn't involve time travel, she corrected herself.

After Tagrea, she was in little hurry to see more dying children, though at least things had been improving there during her last visit, she'd seen enough tragedy to last a lifetime.

They were getting nearer the settlement they were headed towards, as they passed each distance marker she was slowly figuring out the runic script that was counting down, or at least, seemed like it was counting down. That was really more Stevens field than hers, and sure enough he'd stop and inspect each one, before catching up the group as they kept on walking. She considered mocking his nerd like qualities, but decided it maybe wasn't the time.

As they neared the edge of the village, she finally caught sight of some people. They looked pretty much like she had expected, but it was still a surprise to see people who dressed like they were in a TV show about Vikings. Heavy leather and animal skins kept them warm, though they looked wrapped up in a way that was too warm even for this place to Hailey's mind. There were three of them, perhaps leaders. One appeared to be leaning rather too much of his weight on some sort of pole or spear, all of them looked sullen at best, and not just because of the rather insipid weather.

"We welcome you, emissaries of Midgard." Said the man leaning on the spear, in a rather strangely accented, but still impressively good English. "I am Tyber, son of Harl, this is Covel, son of Jonn and Stevel, son of Eidel," the three bowed slightly, before he continued "we are the elders of this place."

Elliot stepped forward and began an introduction, starting with himself, then Hailey, Xiu, Stevens and the medics. Hailey found herself reflexively mimicking their bowing motion after her own name had been spoken, failing to catch herself, she hoped it wouldn't be seen as offensive in any way, but thankfully they didn't seem to react. Pleasantries aside, the medics asked to be shown to where the sick were being kept, and, with a silent nod, the three elders turned and began to head into the village itself, SG-28 following in toe. Elders seemed a strange name for them, despite their possible ill health, the eldest of them couldn't have been more than 40, thought Hailey. Perhaps 'elder' was a mistranslation for something else? A name for leader that doesn't have a direct match in English?

Or that they were the oldest left… she hoped that darker conclusion hadn't come to pass.

The three locals ahead of them reached the door of the largest structure that Hailey was able to see, perhaps a town hall or a church of some kind? It was constructed from simple stone and timber. Solid, but basic. Though it certainly looked capable of standing up to the weather as a blast of wind cold enough to feel through her suit swept across the village. The men had stopped and motioned for the group to head inside. A pair of heavy wooden doors required herself to push against one, while Elliot took the other. It took a considerable effort, enough that she wondered if their guides would have been able to manage it, in the condition they appeared to be in.

As the doors swung open, Hailey was greeted with a bleak sight. It was dark, torches that lined the walls to either side had long since gone out. What few windows there were let it as much daylight as there was coming from the greying, stormy skies above. A cold stone floor stretched out in front of her, with rows of wooden benches, not unlike pews, towards a raised stage of sorts at the back. It would have looked remarkably like a church if it wasn't for all the people lying strewn about. Coughs and moans echoed through the almost unnatural quiet, draining what hope she had for what was happening here, stopping her in her tracks as she took it in. It was being knocked into by the medics storming past that brought her back into the moment, watching as they split up, rushing to the nearest people, already beginning to examine and test them.

Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

She remained at the edge of the room, near the door. The medics were methodically working their way round all the patients, taking notes, capturing data with the new hand held medical scanners, taking blood and tissue samples from some. From Hailey's vantage point, whatever was wrong with these people seemed to progress in stages. Those nearest to her looked a little worse than the men who had brought her here; quite sullen, pallid, greyish skin, kind of like a really bad flu. They were mostly lying or slumped rather weakly, either on the pews or on top of fabric that had been placed on the floor, coughs and splutters rattled from them, with some wheezing faintly, which led into the next stage, lying further into the building, another group, greyer, weaker and struggling to breath, the worst of them covered in dried blood that they'd presumably coughed up. Much beyond them was hard to see in the gloom, but the most senior of the medics, Dr Brown, hadn't returned from that end since he got there.

The com device in her ear crackled into life, it was Xiu, who had embarked on a patrol of the surrounding area.

"Guys you better come out here."

Hailey and Elliot walked back outside, eyes adjusting, though it wasn't that bright, it was enough of a change from inside to take a moment. Turning to the side, they saw Lieutenant Xiu standing, holding her weapon, though angled downwards. Once she noticed they'd saw her, she began to walk back around the building. Hailey and Elliot exchanged a glance, a little puzzled at their comrade's behaviour, then set off after her. As they rounded the corner, Xiu was already passing by the next building down. The two of them carried on walking, though Xiu had stopped when she reached the end of the second building.

"What's up X…" Hailey started to talk into her com but cut herself off as what was behind the second building became visible. Her walking pace slowed down, eventually half stumbling to a halt beside the Lieutenant.

What had been a small clearing in the village had been dug up, there were a number of areas of freshly disturbed earth scattered around, which would have been a little odd in of itself, but it was the one area that was different that gave an answer.

The one that was still a pit.

A pit filled with bodies.


	18. Lucian Tensions Rise

**Lucia**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

It was raining heavily in the Lucian capital, as it was prone to doing. The endless stream of droplets landing on the sides of the colossal pyramid that dominated its skyline, running down into the moats that surrounded it. On that score at least, the Goa'ulds had planned ahead when they built it, or rather, when they watched on as their human slaves did the heavy lifting.

The darkened skies and stormy conditions were a fairly accurate mirror to the world's ruler. Ventrell had summoned the group of Seconds back to his palace. He loathed having them all in the same room at the best of times, preferring to divide and conquer, to play them off against each other, exploiting their petty hatreds and rivalries to his own advantage. It was also no bad idea to keep at least some of them, who would happily stick a blade in his back, or even his front, a great deal further away than they were now.

Terrin's rash actions had however, necessitated the meeting. Earth hadn't yet responded, but it would come. Part of Ventrell was almost sad that it hadn't; a world or two in ruins, preferably belonging to a clan that wasn't Terrin's would have made his point for him, as well as hopefully ostracising the impudent little prick from the wider group.

They were all here, all twenty of them, gathered around his table again, bickering and squabbling away. The First noted that there did appear to be some genuine factions emerging, with some concern. There were those he knew were loyal to himself, Sarra and Rin of course, along with four or five others at a conservative guess. There were more that he knew to be outright hostile to his rule however, and it was starting to look like they were at least willing to tolerate Terrin as an alternative leader at best, perhaps outright back him at the worst. How the few he couldn't read would sway could decide the future of the Alliance.

And how much longer he would continue breathing.

By now the argument was focusing in on Terrin's actions. Ventrell, for his part, sat quietly brooding, his fingers interlocked, with a cold, dismissive glare in his eyes. Back and forth between the two warring line ups it went, boast met by insult, criticism met with fury. It was tiresome.

"You invite the rage of the Tau'ri on us all, for your own juvenile ego!" Sarra landed a particularly cutting blow, it was well known Terrin had a particular dislike for his age being mocked, though he was by no means the youngest in the room.

"I fight for our way of life! The Second slammed his fists into table, raising to his feet. Immediately the assortment of bodyguards that ringed the room all tensed, beginning to draw their various weapons. Tempting as it was to have them all shoot each other, safe as he was behind his delightfully secret personal forcefield, Ventrell decided to act.

'ENOUGH!" Bellowed the First. Some threw their anger around with abandon, with too much ease. It dulled the effect, desensitised the rest, turning what should be a furious wind into a cool breeze. The First was not like that. It was rare, but when he wanted to, Ventrell could put a fury and a menace behind his words that even Terrin couldn't help but to back down from. The young Second slunk back into his seat, weapons that had been being prepared for us returned to their holsters or to their owners' sides and the room fell silent.

"Our way of life you say… to be what? Goa'ulds without the worship? Or did you plan to make the people of that world fall to your feet once you were done bombarding their cities to rubble?"

Not giving him a chance to respond, Ventrell continued, "How many women, how many children? A world far from your territory, with little strategic value. A world that will now hate us till their last day, and for what?" A number of the other Seconds were looking at Terrin more critically than they had been, besides Sarra and Rin, who had maintained their respective levels of disdain throughout.

It seemed the little prick had recovered some of his confidence as he refound his voice, "It is our way. We take. I saw something worth taking. Resources. Technology. People. Since when did it become our way to consider where a target falls on your map, First?" Drawing out the end of the word, a sign of utter disrespect.

"It became our way when we stopped being a bunch of two bit gangsters and found ourselves at war WITH THE FUCKING TAU'RI." Ventrell's own rage levels were bubbling up ever higher.

"It wasn't a fucking Tau'ri world!" Terrin managed a reply, though it lacked the force of the First's.

"It will be now." Regaining some of his composure, leaning back into his throne. In a swift movement, he pulled a small, pistol like device from his side, bringing it up to his eyeline and firing a small, poison tipped dart into the young upstart's neck. The concoction, favoured by the Goa'ulds most deadly assassin's, had him dead before he could even let out a gurgle. Ventrell blinked, it was a delightful thought, the idea of having the stupid prick executed had crossed Ventrell's mind more than once. Not many would miss him, perhaps not even within his own Clan after getting so many of them killed.

"Are we to clear all of our targets with you now then, First?" Navar's unexpected interruption temporarily stopped Ventrell's thoughts of execution. Her feelings for the First and his policies were well known, but such a public defence of Terrin's position was less expected.

He had two choices, he could either double down, which would at least keep those who agreed with him onside, or he could try and find a middle ground, one that likely still wouldn't please those who hated him for simply being there, sitting on the Lucian throne, and would potentially risk alienating those who did support him.

So no choice at all. Not really.

He brought back his, by now, stock argument; that the Alliance wasn't just a criminal syndicate anymore, that it had to became a power worthy of the name or it would inevitably fall to the Tau'ri, that running around the galaxy slaughtering without purpose only strengthens their enemies and gives them reason to strike back hard. As per, one of them would suggest the Tau'ri were weak, one of his own supporters would remind them of the Tau'ri's way of war; they sought to win of course, but they weren't minded to risk loss of life on either side unless they faced no other choice. More would scoff, others would retaliate, full on arguments would break out.

Perhaps it was impossible to carry on this pretence any longer; the Alliance could not become what it needed to be, in Ventrell's mind at least, as long as those like Terrin were around to think the opposite. Even with a war going on, the Council was increasingly fractured. What slim hope he had that more would round on his source of irritation had slipped away.

Any further thoughts along those lines were interrupted by a panicked underling bursting into the throneroom, an unwise move at a time with so many armed, on edge individuals present. Thankfully a hand raise from the First was enough to prevent them paying the price for it.

"First! The Tau'ri!"


	19. Revenge is a Dish Best Served From Orbit

**Fraiser**  
 **Tagrean System**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

It had been too bloody long. Jonathan did love serving aboard a starship, he didn't have a problem with that, not by any means, but what he wasn't as keen on was being cramped up inside one, in particular the meagre amount of space that made up his quarters. Thankfully, shift length, rotations and the number of crew who could fit into a vessel the size of the Fraiser meant he didn't spend that much time in them, but still. A box with a bed that was too small, a wardrobe with some more overalls identical to the ones he was wearing did not make for the most relaxing or enjoyable spaces to attempt to unwind in, yet the luxury of his own bathroom due to his station meant that nobody else on the ship would be willing to listen to his complaints.

Star Trek had spoiled the realities of life on a starship.

It wasn't the only thing that had been too bloody long in O'Neill's book. He wasn't the most patient of men at the best of times, but having spent so much time among the devastation on Tagrea, he was itching for the chance to enact some justice on the Alliance. Part of him would happily have gathered all the ships that were available and headed off into Lucian territory looking for a fight, but he could admit that following a calmer headed strategy would be more likely to pay off.

Still, waiting around for all the pieces of that plan to be put into place was getting rather tiresome.

The Fraiser had been successfully repaired, the required hull plating that had been delivered by SG-28 had been fitted and she had joined her sister ships in guarding the Tagrean system, not that the Lucians had dared to even come within sensor range, nor where they really expected to, but there was a world full of scared people trying to rebuild their lives down there. Having the ships that prevented any further destruction nearby was hopefully a reassurance for them. On that score, maybe hanging around so long wasn't as bad as O'Neill first thought. They'd kept themselves busy, all three vessels had taken on some observers from the Tagrean defence forces and done a bit of scientific exploration, studying the system in depth. This had surprised their guests somewhat, that the ship had applications beyond war. O'Neill had wondered if that might filter back to their commanders who had been a bit suspicious of his elder self, back when SG-1 was here. It also gave some interesting news to the people on the planet, the Tagreans had done little exploration themselves, having only chemical rockets as far as their space technology went, so video, photos and first-hand descriptions of the different planets and moons that also orbited their star was a nice respite to at least temporarily take their minds off what had befallen their world.

But finally, at last, it was time for more military matters. The three remaining 306 class vessels, with the Weir having returned to the Gamma Site for repairs, had been bolstered by the arrival of the Apollo and the General Hammond, mustering on the very edge of the system, it was time to do what O'Neill and the rest of the crew were hoping for.

Strike back.

He'd been in a briefing that morning, alongside his Captain and the senior officers from the other ships to hear the plan. Command were keen not just to make a statement, but do maximum damage to the Alliance's capability to make war. As easy as it may have been to just head straight for the nearest Alliance held world and attack, firstly, that's probably what they will be defending against, and secondly, given what most Lucian worlds were likely, it'd probably be pointless. How they treated people made the Commander's blood boil, and he certainly had no desire to be a part of what would essentially be the same circumstances that he'd fought against here. No, they need a military target, and thankfully, the SG Teams had found them one.

P3X-894, just over 227 lightyears inside Alliance territory and a major ship building world. Undercover reports indicated that it had little in the way of a permanent local population, instead workers were brought in to do their tasks then herded back out once they were done, most of those who did live there longer term were Lucian military, and their fates were of much less concern to the planners back on Earth. Other such facilities that had been discovered had either been sabotaged or destroyed covertly by personnel on the ground, but after Tagrea, it had been determined that the Alliance had to be sent a message, one that would convey to even the less intelligent thugs among their hierarchy that such wanton destruction and slaughter, on an innocent and neutral world no less, would not, could not, go unanswered.

It was riskier, sure. A couple SG Teams on the ground could accomplish much the same outcome as sending five ships carrying hundreds, but the method would certainly be much more visual. Shock and awe, as they'd called it back in one of the Gulf Wars. It was always odd, thoughts like that. They'd stopped feeling like memories, as time had passed and he'd built up years of his own, they were more like recalling facts, information, despite them being the memories of his other self. It had been almost unsettling in his youth, like a clash between his own, then developing, personality, and that of Jack. Now he was able to see it as a strength. A young man with the experience of one of the most famed soldiers in the galaxy.

But still his own man.

He reckoned he might need to draw on some of that experience soon, as the view of the blackness of realspace was replaced with the swirling bluish light of its hyper equivalent. A journey back to Alliance territory must have taken forever in a half-crippled Mothership, but the Earth fleet would cross the border in a comparative blink of the eye. The ship was already at battle stations of course, and he had no intentions of leaving his chair until the mission was complete.

The five vessels flew in formation, the two 304s in the lead, with the three smaller ships interspersed around them. Tactical systems primed and ready for activation, scans had indicated a number of Lucian vessels were in the system, but they weren't the target, and, all going to plan, wouldn't be close enough to interfere. Hopefully it would go to plan, as the intention was to come screaming out of hyperspace on the very edges of P3X-894's atmosphere. O'Neill had every faith in Pavlev at the helm, and the array of computers that backed him up, but still. A tiny bit out either way and you were talking emerging among a fleet of Lucian ships, or, alternatively, slamming into the surface.

Soon enough it'd be time to find out how accurate the helmsman had been in his calculations.

"All hands, realspace in 10 seconds." Captain Gérard informed the crew, with all the drama of telling someone to close a door. Calm and collected leadership, at least on the outside, he guessed. He nodded silently at his superior, who returned the gesture.

"3… 2… 1!" Pavlev counted it down, and sure enough, right on que, the etheric glow of the hyperspace realm vanished, replaced not by the usual apparent emptiness of space, but by a planet, one that was already rapidly getting larger.

Good, not too close, not too far, thought O'Neill. He checked the screen built into the arm rest of his chair, also, as per the plan, there weren't any Lucian vessels in weapons range, at least for the moment. So far, so good.

The five vessels engaged their sublight drives and stormed towards the planet at maximum speed, their leading edges already glowing from atmospheric friction, contrails of disturbed gases trailing behind them. Below, they could make out vast, sprawling structures that supported the construction of Ha'tack and Al'kesh craft, several of both, in various stages of construction could be seen as they passed overhead. With a lack of immediate threat confirmed, the three 306s and the Hammond began to bank upwards, out of the upper atmosphere, leaving the Apollo to push on alone. With a shudder, her bomb bay doors swung open, thankfully manufactured to withstand the instantly intense heat and force being exerted on them, within the exposed bay, a single object was being rotated into place by various servos and gears, before it was then released, at first falling according to gravity's rules, then under its own power, as three engines flared, changing its direction towards the surface to more of a steep dive, as the Apollo, doors already closing, began to alter its own course to follow her sister ships out of the atmosphere.

The Horizon Weapons Platform hurtled down towards the planet, O'Neill could barely even focus on it through the viewscreen, such was the brightness of the glow being generated by its heatshield battling with the air around it, he screwed his eyes up, determined to follow its path, when suddenly the shield shattered, the glow dissipating, little pieces scattering to the wind, yet it drove every onward, speed increasing. Seconds later it must have hit its targeted altitude as its engines shut down, their module also discarded, ten warheads emerged, hurtling off in every direction under their own power. Mark X naquadria enhanced fusion bombs, each more than capable of vaporising everything in a more than 100-mile radius, even a Stargate wouldn't survive that. The ten of them would certainly make quite a show for the watching Alliance ships.

As the bombs neared their assigned targets, the Fraiser had already left the atmosphere and was preparing to jump back into hyperspace. A number of Lucian ships were approaching, but there was nothing they could do to change what was happening. O'Neill watched intently as ten stars flared into existence behind them, the surface of an entire content turned to molten glass in an instant. Every trace of the shipyards that had been there had already been erased. It was a beautiful, yet terrible sight, the unmistakable mushroom clouds were beginning to form when, with a jolt, the cameras lost sight of the burning world they were leaving behind, as the blue light of hyperspace returned.


	20. Lucian Frictions

**Lucia**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Unsurprisingly, news of a Tau'ri attack turned the meeting into a shitstorm. Ventrell had demanded a com link with one of the vessels in the Karrak system, Terrin watched the First's underlings scurry about, bringing in a Goa'uld communication device, then struggling to set the damn thing up. He derived some pleasure from watching the bastard losing his cool, bellowing at them to hurry up.

Less satisfying was those around him screaming for his blood, before they even knew what, if anything, this attack had achieved, he was being blamed for dooming the Alliance. He felt like he'd successfully gotten his Clan back in line prior to leaving for the Capital, but what tolerance he had for his own people being somewhat annoyed at him certainly didn't extend to those gathered around this table. Terrin rolled his eyes, it was clear now that there could be no working with some of his fellow Seconds, they were just too similar to Ventrell and his way of thinking; weak and cowardly. More interested in compromise than conquering, in coexistence than victory. They were an insult to the true way of the Lucians and the memory of those who came before them.

He cast his gaze toward the First, sat in the Lucian throne. It repulsed him. He considered whether he should hang his foe above it as a statement, or just do the traditional thing and stab him. When the time came of course, and it would come. He pondered which would be more satisfying, killing Ventrell, or the joy of taking the throne for himself. No, wait, sitting in the throne while Ventrell watched, then killing him. Now that was a plan.

With a flicker, a large projection appeared from the communication device that had been set up beyond the end of the table, the face of a ship commander hung in the air. It wasn't clear what Clan he was from, Karrak was nominally neutral after all, it manufactured vessels for any Clan that could pay for them, but the uneasy, almost afraid look on the man's face made him certain he was no Second Clansman.

One of Sarra's perhaps, he joked to himself.

The floating head greeted the First, then the assembled Seconds, all of whom were by now staring intently, their arguing and bitching subsided for the moment. Ventrell told the commander to describe the Tau'ri attack; how many vessels had they destroyed, had they damaged any of the construction facilities on the planet, what forces they had brought and so on.

"No vessels destroyed, or damaged First."

Ha! What sort of attack was this? The Tau'ri were no warriors, Terrin was ever surer of it.

Before anyone could interject, the floating head continued, the Tau'ri had focused on the planet, attacking the shipyards. That unsettled the room, a number of voices asking about damage, no doubt they had their own ships under construction there. Terrin smiled inwardly for his own benefit, if the Karrak yards were out of action, perhaps he could bring new allies to his side with the lure of his own shipyard…

The Commander's face was getting progressively whiter, he mumbled something about it being easier to show than describe, as his face disappeared and in its place… fire. All they could see in the projection was fire. Was it some sort of glitch? It seemed whoever was in charge at the other end had noticed, and the image began to zoom out, though it was several seconds before anything but more fire was noticed. Some of the, let's be generous and say less sharp minds, at the table where asking what they were seeing, but it dawned on Terrin. Finally, the image had panned back far enough to see oceans, and, lastly, the curve of the planet itself.

They were watching a world burn.

Gasps echoed around the room, some stunned, at the power the Tau'ri could wield, that they would unleash such devastation, uncomfortable looks as not only had ships been lost, but it was clear no more would ever be built there.

The voice returned, describing five Tau'ri vessels dropping out of hyperspace almost in the atmosphere of Karrak, the Lucian ships in system not close enough to respond in time, as one of the enemy craft launched a single projectile at the surface, as it impacted the planet, the Tau'ri were already gone, departed before the defenders could even get into weapons range.

A single projectile! The room was stunned.

In terms of the attack they had unleashed, Terrin had to admit he was impressed; a whole landmass on fire, great clouds of debris and ash were already forming in the upper atmosphere, huge craters covering the surface were visible in spite of the flames… It was entirely possible that Karrak would never even be habitable again, never mind a shipyard. Some of the others were discussing the prospect of the Tau'ri deploying such a weapon against their own capital worlds, even Lucia itself! Millions could die, or was it billions? He sat and listened to this nonsense for what felt like an age before the urge to interject became too much to bear.

"The Tau'ri would never destroy Lucia with this weapon." He surprised himself at how measured his delivery was, those who had been arguing simply looked at him, somewhat dumbstruck. He chose not to wait for their inevitable, idiotic retorts.

"Of course, they could, if they wanted... But they don't. Powerful they may be, but the Tau'ri are still cowards. Cowards afraid of war. They possess a weapon that can destroy worlds, yet they never used it until now, and when they did, they choose an almost uninhabited one to use it on. A valuable world, yes, a world intended to deliver a message, to scare us, to make us cower with fear at the might of the Tau'ri. I see it the eyes of some of you as you bicker and fret."

That pissed a few of them off anyway, a sense of satisfaction filled his mind. "But it sends a different message to me. It says the Tau'ri won't make the hard choices, it says the Tau'ri lack the mettle for a true war. All the Tau'ri have shown me is the weakness in our own ranks!"

He rose to his feet, forcing his chair back with dramatic effect. "Weakness should have no place in this Alliance. As long as it does, the Second Clan will not either."

As he began to walk out the room, those who agreed with him did the same, leaving their chairs, declaring their lack of faith or disgust with what they had seen, choosing instead to follow Terrin out of the room.

And toward victory.


	21. The Prognosis Isn't Good

**Stargate Command**  
 **Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Dr Keller was making her way from her office in the Medical Bay of the Cheyenne Mountain complex to the main briefing room. It had been more than a year since she had moved back to Earth from Atlantis, but part of her still missed the Lost City, as she walked through the drab, grey concrete corridors of Stargate Command, it certainly wasn't like the gleaming surfaces and glittering towers that she had left behind. But even so, she didn't regret the move. Chief Medical Officer at Stargate Command was certainly a step up, even from being CMO at Atlantis, but mainly the thought of trying to have the longest long-distance relationship in history, with Rodney McKay no less, who had already been transferred to Earth, was not an appealing thought. This way they were only a teleport from each other, instead of three million light years.

Of course there were occasions were that distance wouldn't have been so bad.

Being at what felt like the figurative centre of a much larger galaxy meant working in the Mountain was more interesting, or certainly more challenging than things had been in Pegasus. Recently, things had certainly been challenging if nothing else.

It had been just under three weeks since the situation on the Protected Planets Treaty world, Ordigall, had been discovered. She did her best to remain detached, as all medical staff had to, for their own sanity, if nothing else, but this was a particularly horrible situation, and it was tough to do so. Treating one patient while a family worried over them could be stressful, treating entire families, hell, treating an entire village, at least the ones that weren't already dead, was a different level of stress. She hadn't been fighting just to save a son or a daughter, she'd been fighting to save a culture, a people.

After it had been determined that whatever illness was befalling the citizens of Ordigall was not contagious, it had been decided it was safe to bring the patients to Earth for treatment. It was unlike any sickness she'd ever encountered. Those in the later stages had to be left behind, after attempts at moving them had proven to essentially be a death sentence, only those who were outwardly still healthy, or only beginning to appear ill where brought through from the village. Depressingly that meant only 27 people had made it to Earth. Her early hope was that her and her team would be able to identify what had been making the Ordigallans ill, create a treatment and return to their world in time to cure as many of those left behind as possible.

That had been two weeks ago. Today, there wasn't a single Ordigallan left alive.

The initial symptoms had presented much like a flu, hence the fears that whatever it was would be contagious, from there it progressed into a haemorrhagic fever, before finally into a state of total system collapse; internal organs shutting down, failing, or, in the worst cases, appearing to essentially dissolve as the tissues broke down. Everything she tried failed to do more than slowdown the condition, in the end, the best they could do was heavily medicate the sufferers to spare them from feeling the pain of the end that awaited them.

She had two questions to answer along with the rest of the team; what was this, and how could it be stopped. Keller had barely left the Medical Bay since this had all began in her quest to do just that, as the bags under her eyes paid testament to. Her legs were still moving due to a mixture of willpower and adrenaline as she neared her destination, though by then it felt like she'd been walking for an hour.

The briefing room at Stargate Command had seen a lot over the years, General Carter's office at one end, windows that looked out onto the Stargate itself along one of the sides. At this point Keller hoped there wouldn't be any unscheduled offworld activations. The alarm jarred the senses at the best of times, she really wasn't in the mood for it today.

Keller quickly took a seat, hoping everyone else hadn't been waiting too long, General Carter was leading proceedings here, with General O'Neill and Richard Woolsey joining in via hologram. No pressure then.

Carter smiled and greeted the exhausted looking Doctor, and asked her to update them on the Ordigall situation. Keller cleared her throat, quickly summoned what willpower she had left after the walk here to stifle a yawn, then began.

"The infected present with symptoms not unlike a particularly virulent common cold or flu; aches, pains, coughing, that sort of thing. Depending on the age and health of the individual, stage two is reached within several days at minimum, to two weeks at the most, by which stage what appears to be a severe flu begins to change into symptoms not unlike the Ebola virus. Again, depending on pre-existing factors, within a few days to a few weeks, this leads into the total breakdown of, well, pretty much everything. Despite our best efforts, we have had little success in doing much more than prolonging this process. Sadly, the last living Ordigallan on the base passed away earlier this morning."

She glanced quickly at her watch, just to be sure it was actually the morning.

"You're certain there's no danger of infection?" Woolsey, the look of horror was plain on his face, even through a hologram.

"Yes, we're certain. Even though the early stages present like respiratory illness, it does not spread. We are certain that it is a virus, but it cannot spread beyond the host. Even extracting it for analysis has proven incredibly difficult, once outside the body, it generally dies."

"But you haven't managed to develop a treatment to destroy it within the body?"

"No, as fragile as it is once removed from a patient, conversely, it is nigh on indestructible in the body, all the stock anti-viral drugs we have failed, doses of radiation only slowed it down, we even tried tretonin to boost their immune systems, but with no success."

"Have you learned anything about where this came from?" General Carter this time.

Keller tapped on the screen on the table in front of her, bringing up a floating model of the virus for everyone to see, "The virus doesn't resemble any we've previously encountered, either on Earth, or elsewhere. It's base genetic structure doesn't match the native flora or fauna of Ordigall, at least as far as we've been able to ascertain, so what we can say with at least some certainty is that it likely did not originate there."

That was more than enough to bring a look of unease to the General's face, which then quickly spread to O'Neill, presumably out of a sense of trust for Carter's opinion. Woolsey seemed a little less certain of how to take it.

"So where does that leave us?"

"Well, if it didn't come from Ordigall, then either it came through the Stargate, or it reached the planet through some other means."

Carter's unease was by now a look of full blow concern, an expression that could be best summed up with the word 'damn.'

"General?" Keller couldn't help but want to know what was behind it.

"The Ordigallans told us nobody had been through their Stargate in at least three months."

Ah, that'll be why, reasoned the Doctor. She pondered on this new information briefly, "So either this thing has a surprisingly long incubation, via an as yet unknown infection method, or…"

"Or it got to their planet another way."


	22. Jaffa Politics

**Dakara**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Dakara, where the Alterans first set foot in the galaxy, site of the first humans to be turned into Jaffa by the Goa'uld, home of the Ancient superweapon that annihilated the Replicators and brought about the downfall of Anubis, temples built by the Ancients themselves that stood against the test of time and all those calamities, torn down by the Ori, but now rebuilt, standing proudly, defiantly again.

By the Free Jaffa Nation.

There were few things that brought Teal'c more peace than quietly walking among the streets of the Dakaran capital, Bra'tac, named in honour of his great mentor, and one of the true fathers of the Jaffa rebellion. Though it had been years since the Jaffa had claimed the planet, it still warmed the warrior's spirit to be here, to feel the sand under his feet of a world so storied in the history of his people, and the galaxy at large. Much of the area around the Stargate, its temples and the great monument, formerly home to the Ancient weapon, had been rebuilt, now home to the debating chamber of the Jaffa Congress, and the High Council, beyond it where other buildings, for meetings, other government needs, as well as areas for training and spiritual pursuits. The Jaffa may have thrown off the belief in their former oppressors' divinity, but they were, by accident or by design, a people who needed faith. Many had embraced 'The Path,' a belief system that had been cobbled together from what had been known of the ways of the Ancients, and what had been learned in more recent years, to lead the Jaffa towards ascension. Not all believed in it of course, and even having seen his good friend Daniel Jackson ascend, Teal'c remained to be convinced that The Path would allow any of his brethren to follow the Doctor's example, but he welcomed anything that would bring his people together.

As their need for spirituality had remained, so too had many of their old prejudices, towards each other, between those who had served rival False Gods, between those who clung to old ways and those who hoped for a new future, and outwardly, to the humans, chiefly the Tau'ri.

Teal'c had finally assumed what many had thought his rightful position; Leader of the Free Jaffa Nation. It had felt like so much time had been wasted with false starts, not least Gerak's fall to the Ori, yet all who had taken the mantle of leadership had been found wanting, unable to unite the people, unable to chart a way forward. Now, it was his turn, perhaps an even greater challenge, one he had scarcely dared to even dream of when he made the choice to free SG-1 all those years ago, now, all those problems were his to solve.

Chiefly, his primary concern was the split, on the Council, and in the wider Jaffa society, between those who sought to retain as much of the old ways as they could; dedicated, stoic warriors, spiritually pure, aloof from the rest of the galaxy, and those who hoped for a different future; a strong, powerful Jaffa Nation, an equal among the other powers of the known universe. Within that split, was a second, between those who clung to their prejudices, that shunned humanity, who objected to any and all 'interference' by the Tau'ri, who saw humans as beneath the mighty Jaffa, and others, like Teal'c who recognised not just the role they had played in helping his people win their freedom, but in the vital role they had yet to play.

The Tau'ri advanced ever onwards, unlocking and building on the knowledge left to them by the Ancients and the Asgard, even the Lucian Alliance were managing, in their own way, to improve on the technology they had stolen from the Goa'uld, technology that the Jaffa could barely replicate, let alone understand. Teal'c had spent too many long, long hours listening to politicians bluster and boast of the power of the mighty Jaffa fleets that now patrolled their territory, yet the reality was the Jaffa were already a third rate power, being rapidly left behind. On a personal level, it burned in him that his friends, his allies, were engaged in a war that his people weren't, in part, yes, because it would be unlikely that the Council or the wider Congress would agree, but also that the Tau'ri hadn't asked.

They hadn't asked because the Jaffa fleet wouldn't stand against the enhanced Lucian forces that they faced.

Already they were being left behind, and some of his people revelled in it. Yet it weighed heavily on Teal'c, without advancement of their own, the Jaffa would either be conquered by the Lucians, or, more likely, the Tau'ri would surely, in time, unite the human worlds of the galaxy, expand around the Jaffa's space and turn them into an irrelevance.

He knew what he wanted, he'd given a speech to that effect mere hours before, he reflected on it as his walk had finally taken him beyond the rebuilt areas into the remaining ruins, it was quiet here, he could be alone with his thoughts.

"The Tau'ri launch new and more powerful ships every day, they learn from the Ancients themselves, they wield the power of the departed Asgard. Millions of humans, on Earth alone, become scientists, engineers and doctors, each and every year, always learning, always discovering.

My brothers and sisters, there are no Jaffa scientists, no Jaffa engineers, no Jaffa doctors. Our children do not study to better our society, our children learn the ways of a life that no longer exists, our Nation, so young, yet bound by the ways of a fallen empire that held us in bondage for our races entire existence, is threatened. Threatened not by False Gods, threatened not by an enemy, certainly not threatened by our Tau'ri allies, no. Our Nation is threatened by ourselves, by our refusal to change, our refusal to see the reality around us."

He felt like he had begun converting others to his cause, slowly. When fighting for his freedom, things had been comparatively simple, a single-minded determination; either he would win freedom for his people, or he would die trying. To trade that for diplomacy and negotiation, between stubborn people who had little experience of such things was a very different battle.


	23. The Delta Site

**Fraiser**  
 **Delta Site**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Complaints about being bored seemed a long, long time ago. Complaints about being crammed in like sardines however, were more relevant than ever, as O'Neill slowly opened his eyes, taking in the grey, bare walls around him.

If he didn't know better he would have sworn they moved closer every time he closed them.

With a muffled groan and a crack of his neck, the Commander supressed any notion of a long lie, another concept that had been largely forgotten, and rose to his feet. Sleep was a luxury these days, the crew had barely paused for breath since that 'revenge' strike into Lucian space; now, now it was basically all out war. The fleet was on constant patrol, detecting and attacking any enemy vessels that strayed out of their own territory, launching strikes further in when possible. The Fraiser had done battle with more than a dozen Ha'tacks alongside the ships she had been paired up with and was still standing.

Standing, but bruised. As O'Neill slipped back into his fatigues, the disappearance of hyperspace's ethereal glow out of his window, ah, the rewards for being a senior officer, and its replacement by the inky blackness of regular space most likely meant they'd arrived at their destination; the Delta Site.

Time for some First Aid for you girl, he thought to himself, as the internal com summoned him to the Bridge.

The Delta Site was home to the manufacturing facilities that built the Fraiser and her sister ships, while the diversion of resources to other worlds and their 307 class shipyards meant there weren't any new vessels being produced here, it was where the 306's returned for resupply and repairs. At least until the base was converted to build the newer, larger, more powerful ships anyway.

As he made his way through the corridors, O'Neill pondered whether he'd get a bigger room on a bigger ship, or if they'd just cram more people in. He was largely on autopilot, the route by now deeply embedded in his memory, though he did notice the scars that had started to appear; a scorched panel here, a hole there, the odd area that's artificial gravity wasn't quite right. Weeks of fighting had taken its toll.

The Delta Site was thankfully a decent distance from the front lines, an Earth like world, just slightly larger, by enough that it took just a little more effort to move around, especially after so long in artificial gravity, the scientists insisted the ship was 1G, but O'Neill insisted it was different. Two of its three moons were visible on the Bridge's viewscreen as he took his seat. A small polar cap shone brightly, with sprawling networks of island chains between it and the large continent that hosted the shipyard facilities that was closer to the planet's equator. Further in the distance, a large gas giant, though from here it looked smaller than even the smallest of the world's moons, a hot Jupiter, as they are termed, apparently, reinforced the feeling that this definitely wasn't home. Not that home really felt like home, he hadn't been back to Earth in months after all.

With a few taps of his fingers, he pulled up the list of repairs and required materials, hull plating, power relays, new control crystals and the like would heal the Fraiser's wounds, while additional oxygen, food and maybe, just maybe, something caffeinated to drink. Supplies had run out three days before, crew morale had suffered as a result.

"Transmit our requests to Delta Site Command, Number One." Captain Gérard smirked.

"I'll take a can of Coke," laughed Lieutenant Pavlev.

Can't disagree with that, O'Neill thought to himself. He was still formulating the right sarcastic retort when various sensor consoles started wailing all around the Bridge.

"It can't be…" with a swipe of his finger, the tactical display returned to his personal screen, the list of parts and soft drinks replaced by a graphical representation of the system, the five Earth vessels; the Apollo, the Weir, the Jackson and the Kowalski along with their own ship, and the unmistakably closing red dots of six enemy vessels.

Lucians.

The Bridge echoed with the sounds of frustrated exasperation, a crew who had started to relax where thrust back into the heat of battle, not that they weren't doing their jobs of course, the Captain bellowing 'Battle stations!' was a mere formality, O'Neill knew his team were already responding, preparing for what was to come. He studied his screen intently as it updated with the results of more details scans. Ha'tacks, he swallowed, harder than usual. He knew this would likely be troublesome to say the least.

The five Earth ships had spun on their axis's, positioning themselves between the planet and the oncoming threat. Behind them the two orbiting beam canon satellites began powering up to aid in defending the Delta Site. In front of them, the Apollo was disgorging its compliment of the 305 fighters to engage any Deathgliders that may appear. O'Neill gripped the arms of his chair as the Fraiser's sublight drive flared, pushing her forward with a groan echoing throughout her battle-damaged superstructure.

Naquadariah enhanced, nuclear warhead tipped torpedoes streaked ahead of the Earth ships, their longer range than either sides energy based weapons made them the first shot as a matter of combat doctrine, however the increasingly enhanced Lucian shielding had frustratingly reduced their effectiveness, the six enemy ships took the explosions in their stride as they closed into their own weapons ranges, opening up with their particle cannons. They had obviously been paying attention to previous encounters, they focused relentlessly on the Apollo, rightly fearing its more potent Asgard designed beam cannons, which quickly tore apart the lead Lucian ship. The smaller 306s split off into pairs, using their smaller size to minimise the fire they'd take, and to multiply the effect of their less powerful weapons.

The onboard computers aided the pilot in their chances of manoeuvring through the hail of energy blasts moving at light speed, the crew being pressed back into their seats in spite of the artificial gravity generators and interial dampeners as the Fraiser barrel rolled around the bolt from a Ha'tack main gun, before firing it's twin beam cannons, ensuring it would be the last aggressive act from that particular weapon, the Weir and Kowlaski followed up with their own attacks, crippling the enemy ship, explosions soon temporarily blooming across its hull before being snuffed out by the unrelenting vacuum of space, while the Apollo successfully destroyed a third, though the heavy fire she had taken had severely damaged her sublight drives.

O'Neill was beginning to feel somewhat more confident about the situation just as that fact reached his display. Worse still, a bright flash distracted him away from ascertaining the extent of the Apollo's damage. He squinted at the viewscreen, as the flare subsided. Another Ha'tack gone, he pondered?

It was the Kowalski, or, rather, was.

The two remaining Lucian vessels had broken through their line and were pushing on toward the planet, suicidal Deathglider pilots busily engaging the two Beam Cannon satellites had left the surface vulnerable to attack.

"Pursuit course! Maximum speed!" Yelled his Captain just as the words were forming in his own mind, a shower of sparks erupted from the ceiling as the Fraiser rocked forward, she wasn't done yet, but her damage was slowing her down. The same could be said for her comrades, the Weir and the Jackson were also chasing down their targets, the Apollo, reduced to a mere limp was doing her best.

"Time to weapons range?"

"2 minutes Commander, if she holds together!" Another shower of sparks made it difficult to ascertain exactly who had answered. Was it time to abandon ship? Three 306s couldn't hope to stop Two Lucian motherships, at least not quickly enough to prevent serious destruction to the Delta Site below. Perhaps if they rammed one of the bastards that would take it out…

A crackle of the com snapped O'Neill back to the moment, he thumped his flickering screen with his fist, despite all the advanced and outright alien technology involved, it seemed that was still a viable approach as its image updated, two new contacts rising up from the planet's surface.

Two small, boxy craft streaked out of the upper atmosphere, glowing contrails of superheated gases subsiding as spatial engines extended from their sides. The Lucians had settled into a fixed orbit above the shipyard and had begun firing their first salvo, oblivious or uninterested in the new arrivals, barley larger than a Deathglider as they were.

Even smaller were the golden projectiles that launched from them, like a shoal of carnivorous fish they swam across the void, dancing and diving around the weapons fire before plunging through shields and superstructure like they weren't even there.

"Puddlejumpers," smirked O'Neill, as both Ha'tacks exploded.


	24. Homeworld Politics Carry On

**Homeworld Command**  
 **New York City, Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

"We got lucky."

"Lucky? Looks like those Puddlejumpers did exactly what they were supposed to do as far I can tell, General." James Thomas interjected, his Texan accent faintly reminiscent of General Hammond, which was where the similarities began and ended.

"Yes, Mr Thomas, lucky. Lucky in the first place that we had ships in system able to deal with much of the threat in the first place, lucky that we were able to scramble them to the Delta Site in time and lucky that two irreplaceable vessels were not damaged."

Carter supressed a sigh, tired of having explained these points a number of times already, "We cannot replace a Puddlejumper if it's destroyed, nor can we replace the drone weapons they carry. Yes, they make for a fantastic last line of defence, but every time we use them brings us closer to the day that we will no longer have that line of defence."

"Perhaps your boffins need to get to work on that…" muttered the US Representative, almost under his breath.

Retaking her seat, Carter retorted, "Well yes, they are actually, but understandably deciphering the technological secrets of a device created by a species that was a good million years more advanced than us when they created it is taking a little bit of time."

The facilities at the Delta Site had sustained little damage, the actions of the ships in system had delayed the attack by enough time to power down the base's time dilation field and raise the shielding it had been provided with for just this purpose, though a price had still been paid; the destruction of the Kowalski, the Apollo in dry dock for repairs and enough damage to keep the Fraiser, Weir and Jackson away from the frontlines for several weeks at least. Captain Gérard and her first officer had travelled back to Earth to brief on the repair efforts in person.

It was always a little… odd, being around the 'other' Jack, as they briefly caught each other's gaze, no, Jonathan, she corrected herself. It wasn't fair, he had a name he chose for himself, it was only right to use it. It was a little easier back when he was a teenager, but now, now he was starting to look more like the General. That both O'Neill's enjoyed being in each other's company even less wasn't a surprise, but, in difficult times, having another one of them around certainly wasn't a bad thing.

"With the destruction of the Kowalski, and the repairs required to the Fraiser, Weir and Jackson, we are reduced to the remaining 36 306 class vessels that were completed prior the suspension of their production, minus those previously lost in combat, all of which will be pulled back to defend the other shipyard worlds, bases, and to bolster the defence of Earth." The Captain concluded, sitting back down.

"So we're giving up the fight?" Noranova, the Russian, something of a hawk for the Lucian war, thought Carter.

Sam decided to field this one, answering before anyone else could, "Far from it, however, we face the uncomfortable reality that the Lucians have discovered the location of a base we thought secret, our shipyards are our long-term hope for winning this war as well we know, and they know it too. The danger has not passed, if this was one of the more reckless Clans, we can expect them to attack again, and soon."

"And if it wasn't?"

Carter pondered for a moment, "A more strategic Clan may suspect our response would be to pull our forces back to defend these facilities, and use that as an opportunity to strike elsewhere, it is a risk, absolutely, but one we cannot afford not to take. The loss of the Delta, Epsilon or Gamma Sites would be a blow it would be very hard for us to recover from."

The discussion moved back to the fleet, with the Apollo out of commission, it left 5 of the old 304's in service, 10 of the newer 307's were now active or on shakedown cruises; Challenger, Colombia, Dauntless, Enterprise, Invincible, Mistral, Orion, Titan, Vishnu and Vostok, with another 2 nearing completion at the more recently completed Epsilon Site's facilities. The realities of approaching virtual war economies without the world at large knowing about it was beginning to bite, while the war against the Goa'uld, or the Ori had been costly, they had been very different. The reality of the Lucian war required a large fleet as quickly as one could be built, and while the raw materials were being supplied from Protected Planets and other, plentiful, off world sources, and, once built at least, the nano fabricators produced whole chunks of ship far cheaply than they could ever have been done by human hands, the effort was still costing untold billions.

"Funds will be bolstered by the introduction of a number of approved off world technologies into the consumer market in months to come, holography and crystal computing, though further economic benefits won't be felt without introducing technologies that this Council currently deem off limits until after the Stargate is made public." The analyst concluded her report as the Representatives of the various nations began to squabble again, as they always did whenever the merest hint of going public was made.

"We aren't just limited by funds," Admiral Caldwell had little tolerance for the endless debate that was in danger of kicking back in, his voice enough to command attention in the room, "We have two new cruisers nearing completion, another dozen in the plans that I know of. We can have all the trinium, all the money, as many ships churning out of the temporal distortions they are built in, but we need trained, capable people to crew them, and unless you want to spirit yet more people away from national militaries without anyone noticing, or stuff a bunch of new recruits inside those distortions, we're going to have a problem soon."

It only took one of the Reps to interpret that as another case for going public to set them off again. The temptation to call in a beam out was becoming difficult to resist.

"Things were much simpler when I didn't have to spend all my time on Earth," thought Carter.


	25. Political Struggles Lucian Style

**Lucia**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

"Another Kassa convoy destroyed in retaliation, more Hatacks lost, more of our brothers and sisters dead. All so Navar could try and act the hero…" Ventrell glared dismissively from his throne, "Had you shared your intelligence with the rest of us, perhaps we could have destroyed this Tau'ri shipyard, instead of merely pissing them off!" He slammed his fist onto the golden arm to his side with enough force that even the impudent dogs who had dishonoured the Alliance by agreeing to attend only via Goa'uld communication devices would feel it.

Surprisingly, their nominal leader, Terrin, was sat at the table, with those still 'loyal', or as loyal as Second's could ever considered to be, to Ventrell's rule. He had returned, making concessions, an attempted peacemaker to a dispute of his own making. No doubt seeking to woo more Clans to his faction. Was he smart enough to have discovered this secret of the Tau'ri, leaked it to the far rasher Navar knowing she would strike, to create just such an opportunity… Sarra was torn, between her colder, logical side being willing to consider whether she had underestimated her erstwhile opponent, and her angry, emotional side, who wasn't willing to give the Second credit for anything beyond how good his head would look mounted on a stick.

He spoke up, before Navar could respond, "First, we are all allies here, are we not? Navar may have reacted rashly, but the information was questionable in its accuracy, I imagine she was merely scouting out the supposed base, before preparing for a larger, united attack on our enemy…"

How he was restraining the shit eating grin that must have been bursting to get out was almost worthy of some credit.

An Alliance that was anything but, thought Sarra, how the temptation to throw Terrin and his fools out must have been high for the First, but, how would those who were more neutral react? Ventrell had his supporters, herself among them, whether out of genuine belief in his leadership or out of a determination to keep Terrin away from power, but in the middle… If he was the one to end the phony war, to break the Alliance… She doubted enough of the moderates would break his way, but if Terrin could be pushed into outright rebellion, perhaps then…

There were, however, matters to be discussed beyond the war with the Tau'ri. The troubling sickness that Sarra had encountered on Seheil had proven far worse than had been anticipated by the people she had left behind to tend to the poor wretches. Worse, similar reports were beginning to come from other worlds within the Twelfth's domain, and whispers of others amongst the other Clans holdings.

Raising this was a delicate issue with the Council so fractured, no doubt some would suspect each other, or perhaps the Tau'ri, the Terrin's of course may well not care lest it to be somehow used to their advantage, but the situation was grave enough in her mind to be brought into the open. Though that was often a risk in this company, regardless of the issue.

"I have news from Seheil." Sarra interjected into the low-level rabble that passed for debate, it seemed to catch Terrin by surprise, who immediately made eye contact with her, too quick for the self-censorship he'd been practising so far that day. Once she had milked the moment enough, she continued. "It would appear the situation we… inherited, was far graver than we initially anticipated."

"How grave?" An expected question, but an unexpected source, Qita, still something of a mystery, indeed, Sarra had been surprised at her attendance, suspecting she may have stayed away with the other younger, more rash Seconds.

"The entire planet's population is now dead, so I'd say fairly grave." That turned the previous low-level into a full-on roar of noise as everyone appeared to start yelling at once. Some shouted in the Second Clansmen's direction, other's mostly through the shimmering floating orbs of the Goa'uld technology, at her, one or two screams of "Tau-ri!" mixed in, more pointed or raised a fist in anger at Ventrell on his throne. Yet another fist, this one meeting the arm of said throne was enough to bring back a semblance of order, and the smallest of nods from the First signalled Sarra to continue.

"From what information we were able to glean from the locals, the sickness began with coughing and fever, before they would get weaker and weaker, ending with heavy bleeding and, finally, death. We were not able to treat this illness, nor prevent it from infecting the entire population… Though we suspect the disease may already have spread through their settlements prior to our arrival."

"Don't you blame me for your failures!" That was enough to rattle the youngsters cage, predictably.

"If it were my failure, and mine alone, there wouldn't be other sick worlds within your territory, would there!" It was a gamble, a bold one, but based on logic. If there was some sort of plague brewing in Lucian space, if it was on Seheil when it was a Second Clan world, it may well have spread, or indeed, been brought there from elsewhere in the first place.

Terrin squirmed a little, enough to encourage Sarra to press her advantage, "Come, Terrin, if we are facing a plague erupting from your worlds, this Council must know, we are one alliance, are we not?" Now it was her turn to suppress a grin.

Her enemy calmed himself, fighting to reassert the composure he had so carefully maintained up until moments ago, or at least, the faked appearance of it.

"Plague," he almost snorted derisively, "You overreact so easily Sarra. There is no plague on any of my worlds, I have heard reports of sickness from some planets, that is true, but I have already ordered my best healers to tackle it."

Sarra was somewhat taken aback by the admission, then the realisation that the truth may well mean there was indeed a plague in Alliance space. One her people had no idea how to cure.

"Your best healers?" She tried to imitate the tone Terrin had used towards her, "I trust you don't mean that shuffling abomination you had with you on that Ra damned world's surface."

Terrin's eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his face, "rest assured, the Second Clan will heal these sickly citizens of the Alliance, and stand ready to come to the aid of any others who need us."


	26. SG-28 Into The Frying Pan

**P7X-889**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Hailey was thankful for the rebreather that was currently doing an excellent job filtering the air around her. She bent down to dig the recon drone out of the pile of ash it was currently sticking out of, carefully pulling it free, she thought back to the old MALP's that used to be sent through the Gate back when she was a cadet. Digging one of those out of trouble would have taken a lot longer she mused, though they wouldn't have got all gummed up by a bit of ash like this one had. A little bit of jabbing at its rotors with a brush soon had them going again, and the drone floated back up into the air, before heading back to the pre-determined course it had been on before its crash landing.

P7X-889 had been on the recon list for a few months now, a primitive human world, thought to be a descendent of a Celtic culture, nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary confirmed by an initial study by drone, it had been earmarked for a visit, both as part of the exploration mandate the SGC still held, but, more importantly, to both ensure there was no Lucian presence, and prevent there ever being one. It had seemed a fairly unremarkable, run of the mill planet, as crazy as that statement would sound to the vast majority of Earth's population was. Temperate, forests, a couple small villages within a few clicks of the Stargate and the almost obligatory pyramid. It was because it was all so ordinary that it found itself so low on the list of planets to be checked out. Other, more interesting candidates took priority; suspected Kassa farms, world's that had been raided by Clans, the odd Ancient ruin and so on.

All of which made P7X-889's current condition all the more shocking. There was certainly nothing run of the mill about it now. The atmosphere choked with ash and a whole host of toxins well above the levels required to have the sensors on her suit start beeping in protest. What vegetation that was left was withering, the blackened skies obscuring the sunlight they needed, the villages, gone, at least with no sign that the team or their drones could detect.

What they had picked up on, however, was a number of great fissures that had opened up in the ground, deep enough to expose large amounts of lava, and presumably be responsible for the change in the atmosphere. SG-28 was here to gather as much information as possible, as it was certainly theorised by some back at the SGC that such a rapid period of geological instability could suggest the planet itself may be at threat, There were a number of explanations; perhaps a rogue Brown Dwarf had passed through the system, exerting gravitational stress as it did so. Hailey was mainly hoping it had nothing to do with Black Holes, or the more outlandish suggestions that the Lucians had discovered some sort of Goa'uld doomsday weapon…

The secondary mission, which was partly why SG-28 now found itself as far from the Gate as they were, was to evacuate any surviving locals. They were heading towards the largest village that had been noticed during the original recon mission, though it felt more out of hope than expectation as the four of them trudged through ash and burnt plant matter at least half a foot deep.

If there was a hell, Hailey suspected it looked like this. Her protective suit deadened some of the impact, but she could still hear the crack of lightning in the distance, a near constant rumble, thunder, tremors in the earth, or, probably, both. The temperature swung wildly, from cold, to searing heat near any of the lava filled tears in the surface, one moment, things would be eerily still, the next, a sudden gust of wind would send the ever-present ash toward them like a wave. All around them, smoke, fire and the sense of death. It would truly be a miracle for anyone to have survived, certainly without the technology SG-28 had available to them.

Visibility was pretty low as a consequence, they made their way through the dead remains of a forest, burnt tree trunks stripped back to their core, branches and leaves long gone. According to the map they were following, the village was about a kilometre ahead, but there was no way to be certain visually from the distance they were away. Pace was slow as a consequence; not being able to see very far ahead, combined with not being able to see the ground through the ash required a rather careful approach, as well as it feeling like walking through wet sand. Poisonous wet sand. In a hazmat suit.

She looked across, Elliot was out just in front, the light on top of his rifle doing its best to pierce the veil that had enveloped them, Xiu was bringing up the rear, deftly making her way through the difficult terrain, with Stevens opposite, trying his best not to trip over, suspected the Major, just before the good Doctor stumbled. She stifled a laugh, but it was enough for Elliot to pick it up over the com and enquire as to whether Stevens needed a hand up.

"Screw you!" was the rather sharp reply.

The team had a good working relationship, it had to be said. In a sense, it surprised her to actually think about it, they had been bonded in battle and imprisonment after all. Surviving torture together turned out to be a pretty powerful catalyst for strong relationships, certainly, to the point that it was hard to believe that any of them had once been strangers. Even Xiu, with the language and cultural barriers that had been between them at the start, was just another member of the family. At one stage, she'd never have imagined feeling this close with them, yet here she found herself realising that she had actually stopped thinking that they had ever been anything less to her.

As her mind wandered she noticed that the Colonel had pushed on ahead, by enough that he had disappeared into the gloom, presumably scouting out what lay in wait. She picked up her own pace, as best she could. A blast of air and ash rocked her, almost totally obscuring what view of her surroundings she had, briefly disorientating her, before suddenly feeling resistance across her abdomen as she walked into something, quickly realising it was Elliot's arm, extended to his side, she looked up at him. "Careful!" shouted the Colonel through the com, still disorientated, Hailey felt the ground slightly shift beneath her feet, before looking down to see, in her horror, she was stood at the edge of a cliff! Quickly jolting herself backward, adrenaline surging through her veins, it was only then she noticed what lay beyond. Visible through gaps in the swirling torrents of ash and debris in the air, the valley below, a valley that hadn't even existed when the planet was surveyed, crisscrossed with great scars in the surface, molten lava bubbling and erupting out of them. A horrible sight where a fertile, living landscape had been until not long ago, certainly, but not the source of her attention, instead, her eyes were drawn to large, spindly metallic constructs, rising out of the scars, some appeared to be slowly melting, sinking down into them.

They clearly weren't a natural formation, no matter how strange a world this one had become. Someone, or something, had built these.

"What the hell are those?" Her superior officer finally spoke, by now Xiu and Stevens had caught up, also wordlessly observing the hellscape below.

Hailey had no idea, but, something about this unsettled her, more than it should have been, she thought. This was important, the idea was stuck in her mind, though she wasn't sure why.

"We have to find that out."


	27. In The Neighbourhood

**Fraiser**  
 **Delta Site**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Gérard smiled as she took a deep sip from her coffee, the luxuries of being planet side for so long were abundant, but plentiful caffeine was arguably the best, or certainly, the avoidance of the caffeine withdrawal that had started to kick in during the Fraiser's last tour was. Jonathan was fairly certain having a brain full of the knowledge of the Ancients hurt less than some of those headaches. Repairs on the ship were largely complete, so he had been summoned for coffee with his Captain, presumably to discuss the when and the where of returning to active duty.

As much as he enjoyed the plentiful indulgencies of the Delta Site, which as a thought would have bewildered the 'locals' who, comparing it to Earth considered it to be a rather spartan existence, he was, after all, a man of action. Sitting still had never sat well with an O'Neill, not Jack, nor Jonathan. At least not when there was a war on. When there were innocent lives in the balance. He was almost excited to be sitting in what passed for a café, even if it felt more like sitting inside a shipping container than a Starbucks.

"How long has it been," pausing to put her cup down, "number one." She smirked a little at her favoured joke.

"Since we last did this? Couple years I guess." O'Neill thought back to the meeting they'd had years before, when the Captain had told him she wanted him as First Officer on her then new ship. While suppressing the desire to roll his eyes at her 'joke.'

"Feels a lot longer, and half the galaxy away," they both looked out the window, cut into the pre-fabricated wall they were sat beside, up at the unfamiliar night sky above them, with the Delta Site's twin moons shining light on to the settlement. A few thousand people, crammed into a few dozen buildings, millions of miles from an Earth that, mostly, had no idea they existed. Those moments when he remembered how crazy reality really was compared to what most of the people back home thought was mind blowing for O'Neill. They started to reminisce, their first missions together, the relationship they had built up, both between themselves, their colleagues on the Bridge and the wider crew in general.

"You're ready, you know."

The words still echoed in his mind as he woke, staring up at the largely featureless grey ceiling above him, his alarm waking him in time to start his shift. He rose to his feet, moving towards what passed for a wardrobe full of fatigues built into the wall, beside his new luxury, a pair of arm chairs complete with table! How the other half live he thought to himself as he quickly suited up and made for the Bridge. It was the same, yet different. Same ship, different route, same salutes, different greeting.

"Captain on deck!"

The shout almost reverberated off the bulkheads as everyone present snapped to attention and saluted.

"That'll be the first and last time you do that." The grouchy, dislike for ceremony and the juxtaposition of being a bit of a rebel while simultaneously being 'the man' were traits he still shared with his other self. He briefly paused as he passed by his old seat, before settling down in the big chair. A couple finger taps on his touchscreen console activated a shipwide com.

"All hands, this is Captain Jonathan O'Neill. Welcome to our new crewmembers and welcome back to everyone else. A goodbye and good luck to our former Captain Gérard and those who have transferred with her to the Minerva. You're all stuck with my leadership now. We will be leaving the Delta Site shortly for our post repair shakedown cruise, O'Neill out."

Cutting the com, he continued talking, to the Bridge crew alone, "now, if I'm going to have to be 'the man' around here, then at least let's do some good things with it. Fredericks," the Lieutenant who was busy activating the Fraiser's sensor suite turned to give her new Captain her full attention, "this chair is yours, if you want it," gesturing at the First Officer's seat to his left. She seemed a little taken aback, but grinned nonetheless, moving across the Bridge and taking the seat.

"Remind me to get another pin for your insignia, number one."

The Bridge erupted in laughter.

The Fraiser's hyperdrive core powered up, channelling reality distorting energies into a rift between dimensions and, in a flash, left the Delta Site behind. The plan was to travel a few thousand light years, just down the street for the Asgard derived propulsion system, scan a few uncharted systems, conduct some weapons tests then head for home. Nothing fancy, just make sure everything was working before returning to active duty. Of course, that had been much the idea back when the ship was being put through her paces the first time, and they'd ended up defending Tagrea from a Lucian assault. This time they were headed in a direction that would take them as far from any enemy ships as possible, even any that had gone somewhat out of their way.

Travelling at hyperspace was, well, routine, and uneventful. In the past O'Neill might have taken this time to busy himself elsewhere on the ship, head for the mess hall or catch up on the dreaded paperwork, but, this was his first time in the Captain's chair. He felt like he should stay in it, that he should be providing leadership, even while there was nothing much to do but stare at the swirling energies of the dimension they were currently travelling through. He still had his now promoted First Officer, and Pavlev was still at the helm, but there were nonetheless a number of new faces on the Bridge; green as far as space travel went, either youthful graduates of the SGC's training programmes, or yet more transfers from traditional Earth militaries. O'Neill mused that they must be running out of crews in the Navy at this rate. Gérard had taken a few of the officers to her new command, a 307 class battlecruiser. At the rate they were building them, maybe he'd get one too, who knows what luxuries a Captain's quarters aboard one of those might offer, perhaps even a couch!

The Fraiser dropped back into realspace amidst a system that had some of the scientist types rather excited; binary stars, gas giants, a 'super' Earth and a whole heap of asteroids. A few hours of scans later and the part the more military minded wing of the SGC was interested in was done; no naquadah, no naquadriah, no trinium, no neutronium. He was sure the binary stars were fascinating, but, with no strategic worth, he ordered the ship onto the next nearest system, a few mere moments of hyperspace travel saw the two stars replaced by one big red effort. More planets, more asteroids and, it turned out, another total lack of the vital resources they were keeping an eye out for. The science officers theorised that this sector of space may be very low or lacking in the desired metals, which could be the explanation for this system's Earth like world lacking a Stargate. Given that it lacked a local human, or indeed, any sort of sapient population, it was recorded in the logs and the ship jumped again.

They emerged on the edge of a third star system, a G-type star burning at its centre certainly made it feel a bit more welcoming, initial scans picked up two gas giants, an asteroid field and four rocky, inner worlds closer to the star.

"You know the drill by now folks, full scans, is there naquadah, is there naquadriah, is there trinium… you know the deal. Oh, and find us something to blow up. We still need to test the weapons systems." O'Neill stretched, joints cracking slightly after hours sat in his chair. Time for a coffee he thought, they've got this. He rose to his feet and started to head toward the door out of the Bridge. He hadn't even placed his foot down outside the room he'd spent the last half day in without break when alarms started sounding.

Time to prove my worth, it seems, he reacted.

"Report!" Taking his seat, red flashing lights illuminating the Bridge.

"Proximity alarm, sir! Two ships detected on approach." Adewoye, his new tactical officer answered.

"Lucians?" O'Neill felt his fists clenching.

"Scanning…"

"Lucians?!" The wait was intolerable. O'Neill shifted his tone, seeking an answer. Where they in a fight or not…

"…No, no sir. Vessel configurations do not match anything in the database. Hull material trinium alloy," as a render appeared on the viewscreen, extrapolated from the scan data. A small, sleek ship, a vaguely elongated, dish shaped body, with a small delta wing to either side, each ending in pod shaped structures. "I'm not detecting any hyperdrive signatures."

"No hyperdrives, but they've got trinium ships in a region of space with none of the stuff? Hail them. Standby shields and weapons." O'Neill was uneasy, sure, it wasn't Lucians, but, there was no guarantee whoever was piloting these ships were going to be friendly.

Before the Fraiser had a chance to hail, they received an incoming signal, being broadcast across all com bands. O'Neill gave the order to put it on screen, but apparently it was audio only, in a format that the ships computer was struggling to process.

The resultant blast of static was enough to have everyone reach for their ears. The sensor tech was working frantically to clean it up, eventually, words started to form, as the two ships grew ever closer.

"Th... s... restr... ed...lan... ace...withd..."

"You've got one last try before these things are going to be on top of us!"

"I think… I think I've got it Captain…" Finally, the static cut out, and a clear voice came through the speakers.

"Unknown vessel, you have entered restricted Tollan space, withdraw or you will be fired upon."

Tol… O'Neill's mind raced, first through his own memories, then, delving into those of his other self. It wasn't as easy a thing to do as it had been, it was as if 'Jonathan' was a layer built over the top of Jack, but he could still get to them when he needed to, and sure enough, the answer came. O'Neill leapt to his feet, ordering the ship to broadcast on all frequencies.

"Tollan vessel, this is the Earth ship Fraiser, we are on a mi…" He was cut off, as suddenly the viewscreen burst into life, a connection between the ships established, two Tollans staring back at them, equally astonished.


	28. Playing God

**Area-51**  
 **Nevada, Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Stargate Command was the most secretive facility on the planet, nobody outside of the bubble knew it existed, and, in part, Area-51 played its role in that continued secrecy; the top-secret base that everybody knew existed. The suspicious, the conspiracy theorists, the straight up crackpots all paid attention to the comings and goings in the Nevada desert, a handy game of sleight of hand to keep anyone from paying any notice at all to the facility at Cheyenne Mountain.

Not that anybody would see much of interest these days, with Rings, Asgard teleporters and cloaking barriers, the really exciting stuff was kept way out of sight.

The base had become the lead location for the research and development of Earth's most advanced technologies, teams beavering away on next generation hyperdrives, deciphering the Ancient database, working on the Asgard problem, picking through the wrecks of Ori warships and a dozen other projects as secret as it was possible for anything to be.

Therefore, among those who knew it existed, it made being posted to Area-51 a rather prestigious accolade, not least being appointed 'Director of Research.' Credit and being recognised as a special intellect were big motivators, big enough to lure McKay from Atlantis.

Having beamed in from the home he shared with Dr Keller, he began making his way to his lab, 30 stories underneath the burning desert above, he walked down a corridor, lined with holographic screens depicting a cool meadow, the climate controls doing their best to simulate the experience, apparently aimed at improving the mental health of those who spent more of their lives in their shared underground box than he did. Rodney found it rather ridiculous, outwardly at least, yet he always chose this particular route, over the regular corridor journey that was also available.

His laboratory covered much of this floor of the base, state of the art, the latest in Earth based technology, and a few bits and pieces brought in especially from the Lost City. He had long been frustrated in his quest to replicate the Potentia devices, or, as they were more commonly called, Zero Point Modules. The holy grail of energy generation. While the naquadah fusion reactors, or even the Asgard power cores that were available to Earth were night and day compared to the fossil fuel, fission and renewable energy sources most of the world were familiar with, even if they didn't know about the true source of the new fusion reactors that were beginning to appear, the ZPM was something else entirely, a single one could meet all of Earth's energy needs for a mindboggling length of time, or, power up the 307 class ships to their full potential.

Never mind what a fully powered Atlantis could achieve, or a means to repower the repaired Ancient weapons platform, damaged by the Wraith attack, it could no longer take a traditional ZPM.  
Quite why Atlantis wasn't capable of producing them, or at least having an instruction manual for making them had been a point of contention for Rodney. The Ancients left things scattered across two galaxies, much of it ostensibly for humanity to find and use, yet had apparently decided that the means to power them was something to hide away, or not bother writing down in the first place.

Teams were of course hunting through the Ancient database, convinced it would be in there somewhere, and he assumed it was, but, well, the Asgard had the same database for millennia and had never uncovered it, so he wasn't going to place many eggs in that basket.

So, McKay was here, working the problem. His initial boasts of having a working ZPM ready for the launch of the Enterprise, the first 307 class vessel, had, unsurprisingly, bit him in the ass. Keller had scolded him over it. He did try to be a little humbler, for her sake as much as anything else. He'd been forced to rethink his original estimates, copying advanced technology had worked well enough for Earth, mostly Asgard and Goa'uld derived Ancient stuff had proven easy to replicate, if not always fully understand, at least for some of his erstwhile colleagues certainly, but the ZPM was different. In many ways, it was the most advanced piece of technology he had ever encountered. Creating a pocket universe, containing it and then drawing power from it. It was an almost utterly insane endeavour. In this case, copying wasn't feasible, he had to understand, which meant starting from scratch.

Zelenka had insisted it was beyond Earth science. What did he know?

He and the team had finally succeeded in creating a universe of their own. Essentially being God to a new reality was probably the crowning achievement of his career, so far anyway, and, according to Shepherd, 'the most Rodney thing imaginable.' It had only lasted a few fractions of a second, but still. Each attempt, the universe would be a little bigger, or last a little longer, or both. The quest to produce one that gave back more power than had been required to create it was on.

Today's experiment was the latest attempt. From the control room of the lab, he looked out at the machinery beyond, which, to the untrained eye, looked like a large particle accelerator. At its centre, what he'd originally planned to call the McKay Quantum Core, before he pictured his other half's response, instead settling on the Zero Point Core. The dream of something ZPM sized was even further away, the ZPC was the size of a small house, though like its smaller Ancient relation, it was designed to contain the quantum energies created by the machinery around it. Along the walls were banks of naquadah fusion reactors, required to fire their latest universe into life. The 'Big Bang Generator,' as some of the team called it. A crude, though fairly accurate assessment, thought Rodney.

With a hum audible even through the solid trinium alloy wall and thick glass that separated them from the reactors, power levels began to rise, transferring into the generator, various particles, exotic forms of matter and dark energy were released from their electromagnetic holding pens and began being accelerated up to near light speed. Rodney's hand hovered over the big, red button on the console in front of him, as clichéd as that was, waiting for the energy levels to spike, he thumped his hand down, the button changing the directions of the various streams of particles, matter and energy out of their accelerator ring, and into the heart of the ZPC, slamming them together just shy of the speed of light, containing their reaction inside powerful fields of quantum gravity and dark matter. A miniature Big Bang exploded, universe number 43 had been created by the Project Elysium team.

They all now stared intently at the energy readings coming out of their latest creation, watching them steadily climb as the micro universe stabilised, green bars slowly climbing upward, towards the all-important red lines that indicated the amount of energy that had been used to give birth to it.

It felt like hours had passed, certainly for those stuck in a room with an impatient McKay seeking validation for his work, the steady climbed had slowed, then reduced to a crawl, but they were still climbing, then, finally, by just a few watts, they crossed the break-even mark.

"Suck on that Zelenka!" Shouted Rodney, much to the bemusement of his colleagues.

A statement that might need a little editing for the history books, pondered Rodney as he almost immediately reflected on his own 'eureka' moment…

And for Jennifer.


	29. Prometheus Unbound

**Somewhere**  
 **Nowhere**

For decades, the four factions carried out their plans among the peoples of Terra, barely the blink of an eye for even the corporeal Altera, but massive change for the short-lived homo sapiens and their cultures.

"Homo sapiens?" Nehred was puzzled for the words.

"Us, well, what we were," Daniel gestured towards him, then back to himself. So it meant people, then.

For the most part, The Others tried to hold the other three factions back, but for all their power, their belief in non-intervention held them back, the Abeona, led by Oma, spread their vision as far as they could, trying to limit the influence of the Prometheans, who were becoming increasingly fearful of the isolationist Thanatosian backed Spartans preparing to destroy their work.

Daniel told him how these beings attentions were largely focused on the Spartan culture as being the spark that would trigger the events to come, but that it was The Smith, Prometheus himself, who would be the cause.

As the Spartan culture became increasingly violent, eyeing the territory of their neighbours, destroying and enslaving as they went, he began to fear that the societies his group had fostered would be next, the progress for the species he had dedicated himself to would be undone at the hands of narrow minded extremists.

His group had increasingly pushed the boundaries of what was allowed, rather than doing what they wanted if left to their own devices. Technology capable of evolving the human form to a more Alteran level of development had been one of their crowning achievements, alongside the so called 'Great Libraries,' machines capable of downloading the millions of years of accumulated knowledge of the Altera into a mind. While some of the younger and more idealistic members of the group like his protégé Pandora dreamed of using these devices on mankind, Prometheus preached restraint, knowing such acts would bring the wrath of the ascended down upon them. Instead he scattered these devices across the galaxy, prepping them to be found by the humans later, to be used of their own accord.

Until what later became known as 'The Great Schism,' according to Daniel at least, the Prometheans only use of advanced technology on Earth was the completion of the Terra Atlantus outpost, outfitting it with drone weapons more than capable of defending the planet from any hostile force attacking it from space.

This action very nearly caused the intervention of The Others, the justification that the outpost was located deep under the ice of a continent that the humans didn't even know existed, never mind had the capability to reach allowed its begrudging acceptance. This emboldened the Prometheans, if it could be justified, it could be allowed.

"This would be their undoing." Daniel had a somewhat sorrowful tone.

As the Spartans became an increasing danger in Prometheus' mind, he came to the conclusion that he had to give the peoples of Greece a means to defend themselves, lacking the obsessive commitment to warfare that the Spartans had learned from their own benefactors, he knew they needed his help.

The question was what to do, giving them a weapon to even the odds seemed the sensible choice, but he knew of nothing that could be easily replicated by the locals, or that wouldn't be massively over powered for the era the human societies were in. In the end, he reinvented something that the Altera had not used in tens of millions of years. In simple terms, he would give the humans fire.

Like The Smith, thought Nehred, he had used his fire to teach his ancestors to make all sorts of things.

It was so simple, it had taken him a long time to create it, such was the simplicity, beneath his advanced mind; a mix of sulphur, charcoal and potassium nitrate, it had never occurred to him that something so simple could have such a range of potential applications, even at the technological level of development the Greeks were at, it would be more than enough to put the Spartans back in their box, or even better, stamp them out.

His happiness at his solution was matched only by the anger it sparked in those watching above. While relatively content to allow the unascended to spread myths and legends among the humans, giving them technology outright, albeit an almost incomprehensibly primitive one, was unacceptable. With everything that had been happening, it was decided that an example must be made, lest the situation on the planet spiral any further out of their control.

The Others' chosen method however would be the real trigger for what was to come, after appearing to Prometheus himself to urge restraint failed, only one course of action was determined as a final solution, both to the problem he was, and the larger one he represented.

He was to be removed from the material realm.

Unlike in later times, the methods of ascending a being by another were not yet understood, yet a theory was developed, far from the simple thought that an Ancient today could utilise, but it would still work.

It was well known that Prometheus, like many of the other Altera on the planet, were approaching the limit of physical development, indeed the Council had come to the conclusion that many were willingly holding themselves back from the point of ascension. It was determined that this must be requiring a significant amount of energy to do so, holding the body in its corporeal state. This was the key.

By the order of Uranus himself, a single being was sent to stop Prometheus, Hephaestus. As the process of 'de-ascension' had not yet been discovered, Hephaestus had to return to the material plane as an energy being (the only method available at this stage of development), appearing in a small crowd of Prometheans that had gathered to witness Prometheus demonstrate his invention. Appearing with a flash of light and the words. 'Prometheus, by order of Uranus and the Council, you must pay for your crime.' A single blast of energy struck the scientist in the midsection, Hephaestus had already returned to the higher realm before he had slumped to the ground.

Such an injury was not beyond the capabilities of a being as evolved as Prometheus to heal from, but crucially, the wound was infused with the energy of ascension, as his body fought to regenerate cells at his will, it fought back, desiring to complete his journey and become like the energy that had infected his system.

For three days he battled, healing the same wound again and again, each time weakening his own ability to hold himself back from ascension. In the end he succumbed, and with a flash of light he passed into the next plane of existence, and those who remained prepared to unleash hell in his name.

"The Twins?" Nehred felt like he could tell where this was going.

Daniel smiled a little at that, but continued talking, about how the faction led by his friend Oma were actually encouraged by what happened, they hoped it meant The Others would prevent the direct interventions they wanted to end. Meanwhile those who followed Thanatos saw it as hypocrisy and arrogance; those on high had finally taken action, yet it was to prevent any further meaningful action taking place on the planet.

The followers Prometheus left behind, however, were thrown into chaos. As a group, they shattered. Some, took it as a sign that what they had begun to suspect was indeed the case; they had gone too far. They had pushed too many limits, bent too many laws. Many of them broke away, going into seclusion, either on Terra or off world to continue their studies in peace, beginning the inevitable journey towards ascension.

For the rest, they were convinced that they had witnessed nothing other than the outright assassination of their leader and mentor, that he still existed, albeit in another plane, was an irrelevance. His corporeal life had been forcibly ended against his will. These younger, more idealistic Prometheans, while unable to agree on a single way forward, nonetheless began formulating plans for revenge, from methods to hide themselves from the ever-watching eyes of those above to attempting to create weapons that could destroy higher beings. This was a group of angry, leaderless people that while lacking the capabilities of their elder, former comrades, could still wield fearsome technology. A solution was required.

It was decided, by Uranus and the rest of the ruling council that Prometheus himself would return to the Earth, stunning his followers even more than his untimely 'death' had. As his remaining people gathered, arguing and debating what to do, he appeared before them, in the same fashion as his assassin had done, only a few Terran weeks before, silencing the room.

The now ascended Prometheus urged restraint among his followers, preaching the benefits of The Path.

"He changed his mind?" Nehred was surprised that a God, well, not a God, but still, could change their mind about, well, anything.

Daniel explained that it was important to remember the process he had been through, which critically a number of his followers did not understand. While it had only been a few weeks for them, Prometheus himself had experienced the equivalent of years of learning and discovery on his own personal path to enlightenment. The same path that Nehred now found himself on. While upon his arrival in the higher planes, his demeanour had best been described as furious, the pursuit of knowledge was a powerful motivator, not least for a being so consumed by the joy of discovery. In time he had changed, his knowledge and understanding increased.

Lacking the knowledge to understand this process, a number of Prometheans assumed this to be some sort of trick, either it was not the great man himself, or he had been brain washed by those above. While most of the group were talked down from anything rash, several fled, led by two of Prometheus' protégés; Pandora and Tantalus.

Refusing to believe the words of their deceased leader as any more than distorted lies, they fled, concealing themselves and a handful of likeminded brothers and sisters within a cloak that obscured them from the view of those they increasingly hated in the higher planes.

Pandora chiefly had worked on many of Prometheus' grand projects, notably his efforts to find ways to speed up both the physical and intellectual development of the human species on Terra. While these goals came to take the form of devices scattered across the galaxy for the humans to find later, the younger and more radical Pandora had dreamed of using these technologies to enhance the population of the planet now.

Working with those she had left, Pandora worked on a range of gene altering chemicals and gases, that when released into the population would enhance the humans to near Alteran levels. Once complete, under the cover of a personal cloak, Pandora left the last standing Promethean compound with a range of canisters that she spread across the world as the humans knew it, compounds that would enhance strength, memory, intelligence, longevity, health and many other aspects of human life.

For all her good intentions, and undoubted intellect, she had not foreseen what came next. Her gifts, intended to boost the human race possibly millions of years ahead in their development instead unleashed horrifying disease and pestilence, killing many, many innocent humans.

The results shook her to the core, unable to comprehend what could possibly have gone wrong, she quickly began work on a new compound to right the wrongs of the previous attempts, blaming her decision to use separate creations for different purposes, she created a new strategy; a single pathogen that would enhance the humans closer to an Alteran state in one go. It was her, and possibly mankind's, last chance. She called it simply; Hope.

As she stood overlooking the ancient city of Athens, tears streaming down her cheeks, she prepared to unleash her final gift, believing that only her greatest hope could save mankind. Thankfully as she began to open this last canister, Prometheus returned, appearing before her in a blaze of shimmering light and prevented her from doing so, in all likelihood saving mankind in the process. A distraught Pandora, broken by the realisation she had very nearly caused the extermination of the people she above all else wanted to help, accepted her mentor's views, knowing the numbers of innocents that had perished due to her actions, she begged for her life to end. Instead Prometheus, feeling responsibility for her situation resolved to take care of his former student, ascending her out of the mortal plane.

A book appeared in Daniel's hands which he opened, flicking through pages before pausing to read out a piece;

"Only Hope was left within her unbreakable house,  
she remained under the lip of the jar, and did not  
fly away. Before, Pandora replaced the  
lid of the jar. This was the will of aegis-bearing  
Zeus the Cloudgatherer."

Apparently, this was how a human named Hesiod had interpreted these events, perhaps their own Ballad of the Gods, Nehred thought.

Daniel returned to his story, that the horrors of Pandora had driven the remaining Prometheans to abandon their ways, joining the rest of their former comrades in solitary quests for ascension at the command of their leader. Save for Tantalus. Angered by the apparent murder of Pandora and believing her work had been corrupted by the ascended, he fled, arriving in Thanatosian controlled Sparta.

The arrival of Tantalus in Sparta had one curious consequence for the future of that particular humans elitist culture; the acceptance of non-Spartans as something other than serf labour.

The thought of this slavery or serfdom appalled Nehred, his own world had no history of such things, that these Alterans could have used it was a worrying development, of any of them where now here, back in that strange Diner…

Despite the hatred and disgust for 'weak' outsiders that they had inherited from their benefactors, Tantalus was something the Thanatosia recognised they needed. His acceptance by them (as far as the Spartans knew, their own nobility was as human as they were) became a model for other outsiders deemed useful to be integrated into their society.

It was pragmatism at its best, and did not sit well with some of the more youthful, radical members of the group, but Thanatos knew his faction lacked the technological power that the others could wield, or anyone with a talent for it. Now before him stood a disciple of Prometheus himself! If he had been a praying man, as the humans were accustomed to doing, his prayers would have been answered by this good fortune.

Quietly, and in the escort of his most trusted followers, Tantalus was smuggled off the planet to work in peace. The followers of Thanatos had been busy out among the stars, searching for any traces of technology not captured by the Prometheans, they had discovered a relic many millions of years older than even the Lost City upon a long forgotten Alteran world; Lethe.

On that unremarkable, cold and dying world, slowly orbiting around her now dimming star, they had uncovered an archaic ship, pre dating even the hyperdrive itself, an evolutionary dead end, a concept our kind later revisited once technology had caught up with vision. They had found the first City Ship; the Hades.

Millions of years of neglect had ravaged the structure, the Thanatosians having spent years trying and failing to restore her, dreaming of using it as the seat of their power, capital of the empire they envisioned, Tantalus was soon put to work on its repair.

For his part, Tantalus threw himself into his efforts, already angered and bitter, the constant voices of his new associates soon fully turned him against his former friends, making use of Pandoras cloaking technology, he soon obscured the forgotten planet from the sight of those above, ensuring the world would stay lost.

Back on Terra, the situation was deteriorating, the Thanatosia had come to realise both the success and the failure of their plan. Their Spartans were clearly superior, in their eyes at least, but they took time to produce, and were increasingly dangerously outnumbered in their own society, never mind on a planetary scale. Quietly their operatives withdrew, leaving the Spartan society to continue on to its inevitable fate alone.

A new plan was embarked upon, as they noted the spread of Alteran culture and values throughout almost all the societies on Terra, they would seek to undermine and discredit the work their former brothers and sisters had completed, challenging or replacing the myths, legends and deities they had created, while attempting to force the Abeona, the last remaining faction actively engaged on Terra, to leave the planet, one way or another. This period would be remembered in human histories as tales of great battles between the gods, of new beings usurping old, as Thanatosian and Abeonan agents battled for supremacy and the future of the human race.

"Which it seems, your people remembered better than mine did," said Daniel with a grin.


	30. How Much For That Ion Cannon In The

**Homeworld Command**  
 **New York City, Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

The discovery of a Tollan refugee colony had stunned everyone, well, those who were still around who remembered contact with them certainly. Those who were a bit newer to the SGC, or Homeworld Command were, perhaps, somewhat used to the array of technologies straight out of science fiction that were now in Earth's possession, but for Sam, and the others of her 'generation' within the Stargate programme, the Tollan's were the first advanced human society they'd encountered. Carter thought back to her discussions with Narim all those years ago, it was like being a kid who knew nothing talking with a professor.

It also explained the difference in excitement, while many, after reading the briefings, were almost dismissive, after all, Earth starship designs were far more advanced than their Tollan counterparts, Carter knew better. Yes, Earth had advanced greatly, but it had done so through copying and building on things they had been given, it hadn't been a uniform, steady development of their science and technology base, so there was much they still didn't understand, and almost certainly at least some of that the Tollan would. It was her hope that these refugees may be more open to an exchange, now that Earth had advanced.

For their part, apparently the Tollan's themselves had been rather surprised to encounter a vessel from Earth, according to O'Neill's report. They'd had no contact with the wider galaxy since arriving at their new home, and had even feared that, like Tollana, Earth may well have fallen to Anubis. They had been a small fleet of ships that had managed to break through the armada encircling their former world and had arrived at a planet they named Tolla. Their relief upon finding a habitable world within range, their ships badly damaged and lacking in fuel, turned to despair when the total lack of trinium and other important elements became apparent. With no other choice, they landed, cannibalised their ships into settlements, leaving only two small vessels to defend it. The surviving Tollan faced up to their new reality, one far removed from the idyllic, post scarcity civilisation of Tollana, and the second time in a generation that their people had lost their home.

That lack of a Stargate, or the means to travel faster than light, meant a delegation, led by High Chancellor Nerra, were on their way to Earth aboard the Fraiser. A relatively short journey via hyperspace, it had still been deemed enough time for the Tollans to be briefed on the state of the galaxy, though she'd been told that the younger O'Neill had already gleefully informed them of the demise of the former System Lord. She was certain that would have been well received.

Carter was curious, as where many of the others present, judging by the discussions taking place, as to just what the Tollans were coming to say, it seemed logical that they would be keen to seek supplies of trinium, the all-important element in Tollan technology, perhaps even a Stargate of their own, or other, more mundane requests, depending on just how resource poor their new home system was. The bigger question was what exactly they were planning to offer, the Tollans, or certainly their leadership had been decidedly against any trade with less advanced cultures, something of a bone of contention in the relationship between the two worlds, for Jack and others in particular. Carter hoped that, by having the level of technology required to discover Tolla, they might re-evaluate that position. Of course, their need for things they couldn't obtain alone, that Earth could, may well encourage a more 'pragmatic' policy, but Sam disliked that notion, while it was clearly a popular one among at least some of the politicians present, the Tollans had suffered greatly, she had no desire to take advantage of their situation.

Woolsey asked for order in the room, a sign that he'd been signalled that their guests had arrived in orbit. Those present quietened down, taking their seats if they hadn't already done so. Sam, together with Jack and Richard instead moved into the centre of the space, just in time for the customary flash of white light that signalled the use of an Asgard transporter. As the glare receded, five figures became visible. The younger O'Neill and his First Officer, judging by her rank insignia at least, Carter felt momentarily bad for not having made it through that particular pile of paperwork on her desk back in Cheyenne Mountain. With them, two men, in the grey uniforms Carter recognised as being from the security forces on Tollana, and a woman, in somewhat more elaborate, yet still sombre, robes. No doubt this was the leader of the Tollan people that they were expecting.

Captain O'Neill stepped forward, announcing the arrival of High Chancellor Nerra of the New Tollan Curia, turning to the woman's side, he gestured towards the three who had assembled to greet her, introducing Woolsey, as the Secretary General of the Coalition, a somewhat awkward moment, introducing his other self, as the leader of Homeworld Command, before reaching Sam, as the leader of Stargate Command.

Nerra stepped forward, "General's Carter and O'Neill, may I offer the gratitude of the Tollan people, for once again coming to our aid, and the thanks for your efforts to save Tollana, that we have been unable to offer until now."

Carter smiled, she could see the sorrow in the woman's face, she supposed it shouldn't be surprising, but then the Tollan had been a rather reserved people in many respects during their past dealings.

The delegation took the seats that had been assigned to them, for the first time the room had a truly 'alien' feel, though Carter felt that was the wrong word to describe human cultures from elsewhere in the Galaxy. The Tagreans were present, as the first non-Earth based power to formally sign up to the United Nations Coalition for Planetary Defence. Though how much sense that name made sense with offworld members was already a subject for debate. Also joining the meeting, but as observers, were ambassadors from Galor and Hebridan, two advanced human worlds that had been somewhat estranged since the controversy on Langara had got out years before. Whether enough time had passed or that their unease at the state of the Galaxy had sufficiently grown, the expansion of the Coalition seemed to have caught their interest to an extent that made them want to participate.

The Langarans themselves still refused any diplomatic contact, not that Carter blamed them for it. The attempt to use their world to dial the Destiny, regardless of the circumstances in that moment, was ill thought through, and that was being charitable.

"Truly, this is a momentous day in more than one," began Woolsey, his love for a speech as strong as ever, "what began as the burden of but one nation, grew into an alliance of states, working together as never before, and today, joined by friends from other worlds, old and new, familiar and feared lost. It is my belief that the bonds of our Coalition will bring peace to this Galaxy."

"This meeting is honoured to receive the High Chancellor of the New Tollan Curia, we have some understanding of the plight of your people, Chancellor Nerra, rest assured that we stand ready to provide whatever assistance that we can."

Light applause circled the room, as the Tollan leaned towards the microphone in front of her slightly, almost a little unsure of quite how the device worked, she began to speak. "Thank you, Secretary Woolsey. I will not mince my words, I come here, on behalf of the people of Tolla, to seek help, humbly so, given the history of our peoples, when it was you who sought help from us. We are not who we were, tragedy and struggle has changed us, we cannot stand alone, but even if it were possible, we still would not choose to do so. I am encouraged, as I look around this room, to see nations, to see worlds coming together."

"The Tollan are few in number," the sadness in her voice becoming ever more pronounced, "and as you know, lacking in even the basic resources needed to sustain ourselves, but we offer the one resource that has long been our strength; our minds. The spark of Tollan science remains undimmed. Perhaps it is not as great a prize for the Earth, now that you have spread out among the stars, as it once was, but we offer what we have, gladly, to our friends from the First World."

Sam's eyes briefly met with Jack's, from his expression, she suspected he was struggling to stop himself from mouthing the words 'Ion Cannon' across the room.

Discussions continued, as amounts of trinium or naquadah were bounded around the room, while the Tollan Chancellor suggested various ways that they could be of assistance; exchanges of personnel, databases, fragments of technology that had survived their exodus and so on. Woolsey even gave a short presentation on the Tollans Mayan ancestors, offering to arrange for a small number of their people to visit the ruins in Central America, suitably under cover of course.

All in all, things were progressing well. Sam sat a little further back into her chair and smiled inwardly, the Lucian War had been rumbling on for so long now, it was a constant in her life, but this, this was a genuinely good moment. It reminded her of some of the missions through the Gate, back in the old days; solving problems, averting catastrophes, recusing people in need. One day she hoped to be able to push the SGC back towards that model, exploring the Galaxy, lending a helping hand to those who needed it.

The sudden beeping of coms and rattling vibration of phones against tabletops was almost too predictable when it started, Nerra paused mid-sentence, looking a little bemused at the noise being made by what to her where curious little black rectangles of glass and metal.

With a slight sigh, Sam reached up and tapped the com button in her lapel, the familiar voice of Sergeant Harriman came through, crystal clear in her ear, though nobody else in the room could hear it.

"General Carter, we've received a distress call from Langara, they've been attacked by Lucian Alliance forces."

As the Sergeant finished speaking, it was clear most of the rest of those in attendance had gotten similar messages, the younger O'Neill and his First Officer quickly ordered themselves a beam out, after a nod towards Caldwell, returning to their vessel in orbit, perhaps fearing an attack on Earth, or expecting orders to head to the Langarans aid.

It was the least that they owed them.


	31. There's Always A Cost

**Tenebrae Station**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

There was a deep, unsettling feeling in the pit of Terrin's being whenever he found himself on this ancient space station, he blocked it out of course, not allowing himself to dwell on anything that he might consider weakness, but it was there. As to why he felt like that, well, he didn't ponder too much on things he sought to convince himself weren't real.

It was a truly awe-inspiring place. Large enough to be home to several Chappa'ai's, each housed in their own section, coming off of the central core. The sheer scale made it hard for him to picture the form of the exterior, having never seen it from the outside himself, though even the occasional window offered little help in this regard, only the sight of inky, starless blackness that contributed to the unsettled sensations he didn't want to be having.

He had heard many tales of the Ancients during his life, myths and legends of all they had achieved, as close to a true God as any beings had ever come. Among them, that all the Goa'uld had wielded as their own was in fact the work of those long-gone beings, or rather, the scraps they had left behind was an increasingly common one. How true, or otherwise, those stories where was up for debate, but he was convinced this place must have been their doing. In a sense it seemed almost primitive, compared to his own ships with their automatic doors, hidden lights that felt more like the warming glow of a star, smooth, seamless material everywhere, the heavy machinery hidden away, working as if by magic. Yet here, cogs and gears whirled all around as doors clunked open and closed, harsh lights glared from above, piercing the gloom, the original, rough, structural material had been covered over and covered over again, worn down by countless years of wear and tear. A relic from a time before the Ancients reached their heights, he reasoned, maintained by people who couldn't fully grasp even that level of their capabilities.

What he could do with even a fraction of their knowledge…

He had come to seek further assistance, while his ships had performed far better against the cursed Tau'ri than a 'normal' Lucian vessel would have, it hadn't been enough. He had brought all the data he could on the enemy's ships to aid in the endeavour. The sickness that was beginning to ravage its way through his worlds was a secondary, though still important, concern. The 'healers' that he had obtained during a previous visit had proven ineffective, merely slowing the disease, not stopping it. At least that was his assumption, the process that grafted the Goa'uld technology into them and rendered them obedient to his commands didn't leave them in a particularly talkative state, meaning getting feedback from them was something of a non-starter.

Making his way through the dark corridors, the feeling of being watched was ever present, be it by any of the many people going about their own business, or the eerily silent, floating orbs that roamed the station, occasionally one of them would pause in his vicinity, perhaps taking a closer look, if that was indeed what they were doing. Contrary to his usual demeanour, he kept his head down, there was no way of telling who was lurking among the beings around him, the residents of the station were one thing, but no doubt all sorts of people were drawn here, criminals, assassins, warlords. Terrin was all three and more, but he had no desire to run across any potential threats in a position of weakness, alone as he was, and largely convinced the technology at work around him would render his concealed pistol next to useless. He had a reputation, not that any Lucian Commander was well thought of outside of the Alliance, but his actions had earned him an infamy beyond the rest; the Blade of Oluk'ra, the Despoiler, the Butcher of Terak'len. He quite liked the last one, it had to be said, but, those who survived the atrocities, the refugees, those who clung to life and swore revenge, they could be anywhere, scattered to the winds, having fled from their dead and devastated worlds. Lurking in the shadows, just waiting for their chance.

He had no intention of giving them one.

Finally he arrived in the central section, a huge ring of space, presumably running around whatever machinery and power core that made up the heart of the station. The ring was packed with people, along the edges, small stalls, or meeting points, where being met to trade, weapons, narcotics, slaves, all sorts. Occasional small corridors and rooms branched off from it, alongside the much larger sections that led to the Chappa'ai's like the one Terrin had just entered via. He pulled down the hood on the cloak he was wearing over his Lucian uniform, though he had temporarily dispensed with the more ostentatious additions he usually wore as befitted his status, he had decided the unmistakable black outfit of his people was worth keeping. Almost as soon as he had done so, a man emerged silently from the throng around him.

"Lord Terrin."

He jolted slightly, though the soothing, respectful tone offered no hint of threat or malice, it was still unexpected. A man had appeared to his left, wearing a simple grey robe, a few inches shorter, his bald head glinting in the harsh light. He smiled, in an odd way, like he was trying to convey warmth, but instead left a rather unsettling impression on the young Second. The man spun around and made his way back into the crowd, taking this as a que to follow, Terrin made after him, ducking, dodging and barging his way through, yet the stranger seemed to pass through serenely, never deviating, never altering his pace, but passing through unimpeded nonetheless.

Finally, they reached their destination, cogs on the door spun loudly, before it slid apart, inside, a largely featureless room, harshly lit from above, a slight metallic taste to the air. Arrayed around a number of small tables where those he had come to meet. As he entered, his guide bowed to the assembled beings and left, the door clunking shut behind him, the same cogs working in reverse. The group were mostly human, though two sets of flashing eyes gave away the Goa'uld among them, several unknown humanoids were mixed in, of races he had not personally encountered before. One of the humans rose from his chair, an older man, as he steadied himself on his feet, a metallic hand emerged from one sleeve of his similarly grey robe, closely matching that of his guide and a number of the others in the room, its fingers clicking and grinding as it grasped his other, still flesh hand across his chest.

"We have been expecting your return, Lord Terrin of the Lucians."

Around the far edges of the room, what could best be described as things twitched at his arrival, glowing lenses in place of eyes, partial masks covered mouths, scars and metal implants, reminiscent of some of his own newer 'associates,' but with arms ending in Goa'uld weapons and torture devices. Guards no doubt, responding to any possible threat to their masters.

He made a mental note to investigate acquiring some of these for himself. A Second could never be too secure.

The things twitched again as Terrin approached the man who had risen to greet him, but a wave of his metallic hand seemed to return them to a peaceful state. Perhaps dormant was a better term for it though, he wasn't certain these things possessed even a hint of emotion left over from whoever they had been before.

An exchange of pleasantries followed, another thing, this one seemingly lacking in any sort of combat capability manoeuvred a chair into position for Terrin to take a seat, allowing for the discussion to begin.

"Tell us, Lord Terrin, how did your enhanced vessels perform against your enemy?" The man with the metal hand began, Eran, was his name, or at least, that was the name he was willing to disclose.

Terrin had considered how to respond at this moment, had an issue arisen within his own clan, an underling failing to meet expectations, he would have responded with fury and rage, regardless of how close they had come to completing their task, he had no tolerance for failure. But, matching the Tau'ri's talent for technology, or, certainly, a talent for stealing it from the elder races, was quite the challenge, so any progress toward narrowing that gap was impressive.

He was also relatively certain an angry rant would gain little traction here, at best. Gaining attention from the assorted mutilated things that guarded them at the worst.

He collected his thoughts, "Well. I took my own mothership and two enhanced Ha'tack's on a raid, they performed superbly, until the Tau'ri arrived. My ships managed to hold their own to… varying extents, against the smaller cruisers of the enemy fleet, but the arrival of one their battlecruisers forced my withdrawal, and the loss of the two Ha'tacks."

The group began murmuring amongst themselves at this news, all except Eran, who sat rather dispassionately, taking it in. That wasn't surprising of course, these men cared nothing for Terrin or his people, this was business.

He began to speak, the room falling silent an instant before he did so. "That is most regrettable, our condolences for your lost comrades… Tell me, where you able to bring us any data, any information on this encounter?"

Reaching into a pouch to his side, Terrin produced a handful of Goa'uld data crystals, in a flash, the thing that had brought his chair appeared, hand outstretched to take them to its master. It had the same vacant expression and milky white eyes that the weapons 'officers' onboard his mothership had.

It took all of his determination not to shudder visibly as he made eye contact with it.

"Excellent. These Tau'ri are proving quite a challenge for us, Lord Terrin. But then, we do all enjoy a challenge." At that some of the others let out a hint of laughter, though it was hard to tell if it was forced or not.

"And what will be the cost, for your continued efforts in meeting this challenge?" The Second was keen to cut to the chase, the unsettled feeling he was trying hard to ignore driving him to try and end his time here as quickly as possible.

"Cost… There is always a cost, Lord Terrin, we have enjoyed a successful partnership since our chance encounter, we have helped to enhance your standing among your people, and to take the fight to your enemies. In return, you have provided us with the… raw materials we have needed both for your requirements, and to further our own interests."

"What do you know of our interests, our goals, Lord Terrin?"

A little puzzled, the Second replied, "I don't pretend to know anything, nor do I need to, as long as they don't conflict with my own."

"The galaxy is a large and chaotic place, Lord Terrin. Far beyond your own people's conflicts with the Tau'ri, there is war and strife everywhere. And where there is war and strife, there is opportunity. Opportunity as fleets battle for control, opportunity as worlds fall, opportunity as destruction, death and disease run rampant among the stars… What would you say if our interests could be… aligned?"

Terrin wrinkled his brow slightly at that, uncertain where things were going.

Eran rose to his feet once more, beckoning the Lucian to join him, moving across the room to a wall on the far side, a single door it's only defining feature, the same circular mechanism and cogs that had been on the one he had entered through.

Terrin, sounding somewhat reluctant, started to ask what was going on, "What interests might those be, where are you taking me…"

Shaking his head, as the cogs on the door began to spin, the door preparing to open. "That is not for me to say Lord Terrin, perhaps our benefactor would be better placed to share with you, the scope of their vision."

The cogs finished turning and the door parted, receding into the wall, as they parted, bright, dazzling white light shone out into the room, enough to force Terrin to briefly close his eyes, raising his hand to try and block out the glare, he was beckoned inside.


	32. The Calm Before The Storm Part I

**Stargate Command**  
 **Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

It was said, in a supposedly jokey way, that there were three kinds of people on an SG Team. O'Neill's, like Colonel Elliot or Lieutenant Xiu. They were fighters, the professional soldiers who would get the job done. There were Jackson's, or, as the General was said to have termed them, Nerds, like Stevens, archaeologists, historians, xenobiologists, linguists and the like, tasked with scouring ruins for useful information and understanding different cultures and languages. Then, there were Carter's, the problem solvers, the smart ones who would, when required 'science the shit' out of problems that couldn't be solved by the more shooty O'Neill types.

Hailey was, herself, quite definitely a Carter. She'd looked up to the original one ever since she'd been taken under her wing all those years ago as a cadet. While she didn't profess to be quite the genius that Sam was, as much out of modesty than any lack of brain power, she still found herself in her lab, working the problem.

She was analysing the data from SG-28's trip to P7X-889. It had been an utter hellscape of a planet, which made the conclusion that it being that way hadn't come about naturally all the more troubling. Alongside her own data, the requested orbital observations had also come in, the situation being deemed worthy of diverting the Daedalus slightly out of its way as it returned to the front lines. Together, they had enabled her to rule out the other competing theories; a passing Brown Dwarf, an asteroid strike, or even any outlandish, weapon of mass destruction related ideas. The data had revealed that the entire world was in as bad, or even worse state, than the area around the Stargate. Huge rifts carved open. Right down through the crust, strange metallic constructs, those that hadn't already melted away in the heat, snaked out of them. Hailey reasoned that they were perhaps to aid in some sort of excavation or resource extraction, but then who would be willing to destroy inhabitable, populated worlds just to extract, what, naquadah? Trinium? With the sort of technological prowess on display here, and that the perpetrators, and whatever they pulled out of the ground, had disappeared without trace, would suggest someone with the tools to easily mine asteroids and the like, a far more efficient endeavour, The Goa'uld favoured planetary mining because it suited their egos to lord it over their human slaves, and to keep the more advanced technology required to do that out of their hands, but this wanton destruction served no apparent purpose, no ego play, no show of strength, just an utterly devastated world left in its wake.

Or, to be more correct, worlds.

Cross referencing with the extensive database of planets that had been explored by the SGC, she found four others with at least a passing resemblance to the conditions encountered. These ones, however, had only had an initial MALP contact, then had been filed away as being unsafe for human visitation. It was difficult to confirm that the same events that had unfolded on P7X-889 had also befallen those worlds, but it was certainly a possibility. A chilling one at that, if someone, or something out there was essentially strip-mining planets in such a violent manner…

Hailey pulled up the map of the galaxy on the holographic display that hung in the air above her workbench, countless little pinpricks of light twinkled as the familiar spiral of the Milky Way took form, then, a sea of blue dots blinked into life, the known Stargate network, appeared, overlaying the stars where a Gate was present in its system. She keyed in the commands needed to zoom in to the area of the Galaxy where her devastated worlds were, forming a rather distended pentagon, thousands of light years across. They were in a more sparsely populated region of the Galaxy, as far at the Gate network was concerned, but nonetheless she began reading through the data on Stargates in an around the area she had zoomed in on, scrolling through the six-character planet codes, she marked off ones that had been contacted and ones that had not. She quickly established that outside her little 'Bermuda Pentagon' there were a number of inhabited worlds, ranging from a few hundred to over a thousand light years distant from the nearest effected world, however, inside it, where a number of addresses that seemed to have had no contact at all, not even a MALP probe. She pondered which was more important, to check out the safety of those worlds 'outside' lest they be in any danger, or to investigate those worlds 'inside' lest there be more planets that had fallen victim to obtain further data, or perhaps, answers. Thirty four worlds were present inside the Pentagon, as she clicked on each address, it would highlight on her holographic map, displaying any available data, and the relevant Stargate address, allowing her to copy each one, transferring it to her tablet display to take to the General to make a case for the required missions. Finally, she neared the end, selecting planet number 33, immediately, its previous blue dot turned red, followed quickly by the rest of her display. This planet had been locked out and classified, not even a Gate address. Almost as a nervous response, Jennifer switched to the final entry, only for the same response, a locked-out world.

She sat back, a little shocked. She knew there were worlds that had been excluded from the dialling computer, worlds deemed too dangerous for any contact, black holes, dangerous alien entities and the like. As she considered what to do, the SGC's own alarm system blared, the red light on the wall across from her flashed, she waited a moment, for the familiar 'unscheduled off-world activation' message to come, but it did not, instead the alarm sounded on its own, for what seemed like an age, as she was unsure what to do, before finally, General Carter's voice came across the com system.

"All SG personnel report to the briefing room!"


	33. The Calm Before The Storm Part II

**Stargate Command**  
 **Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Carter and Caldwell had returned to the Mountain to begin preparations for the mission to Langara. Sam left the Admiral in charge of summoning a suitably sized fleet, while she took charge of more immediate problems. The Langarans had succeeded in dialling Earth to send their SOS, but after the wormhole had disconnected, the Lucians had seemingly managed to connect quicker than the SGC had been able to. Carter had ordered SG Teams 38 through 50 to be ready to go, elite special forces units to join the fight, as well as medical personnel and emergency supplies. Relations with Langara had been fraught since the Destiny incident, and rightly so, from their point of view, reasoned Carter, so she was doubly determined to show that Earth could be a trusted friend once more. But for now, it was a frustrating waiting game, Earth had sworn to defend Langara after all, even with the rather frosty diplomatic relationship, and on a personal level, too, though she did her best to compartmentalise such concerns, her friend Jonas was on the other side of the Stargate, no doubt in the thick of things. She had taken over the dialling computer herself, in an attempt to ensure a faster sequence. While the technology and systems had changed a lot over the years, the SGC's dialling computer was still a little slower than a DHD, mostly due to safety concerns; the Earth designed equivalents for, say, preventing dialling a world too close to a black hole, or sending a wormhole through a star, took a little longer than those made by the Ancients, but in this case, time was of the essence, so she had disabled them.

Hopefully no stars will be lost in the attempt, she thought. Blowing up one sun still came back to haunt her, never mind two! Jack would have a field day…

"How long?" Caldwell was coming down the stairs from the Briefing Room.

"12 minutes," Sam didn't break contact with the screen in front of her, focused on completing her work.

"Good, I'd prefer to have an up to date picture before the fleet leaves."

"You have one ready to go already?" It was odd, it was easy to forget just how quickly a ship could travel, that they could be summoned from thousands of light years away in next to no time at all.

"Eight vessels ready to go, the Enterprise and Fraiser were already in system, the Odyssey and Challenger will help provide the heavy punch, while the Weir, Jackson, Emerson and Pendergast will back them up. I can have them in Langaran orbit within the hour, and a dozen more not long after."

What reports they'd gotten, before the Gate had cut off, had been bleak. Reports of orbital bombardment, and Lucian ground troops in several cities. The Joint Ruling Council, Langara's unified planetary government, had been deliberating deploying their greatest weapon, the Naquadriah bomb, after the scavenged Goa'uld energy weapons they had jerry-rigged out of the wreckage left behind by Anubis' attempt to conquer the planet failed to stop Lucian Ha'tacks landing on the surface. Sam had advised against it, fearing it would merely encourage more savagery from the invaders, or worse, inspire them to try and take the technology for themselves.

Carter's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the base's alarm system kicking in. Almost instinctively she looked up at the Gate, but there was nothing, its ring was perfectly still. Her mind raced, what else automatically triggered the alarm system?

Then it hit her like an anvil.

Triggering the com system with a sharp jolt of her right hand on the terminal, she yelled out through every speaker inside Cheyenne Mountain.

"All SG personnel report to the briefing room!"


	34. The Calm Before The Storm Part III

**Fraiser**  
 **Earth**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

The prospect of a battle wasn't a new one for O'Neill, nor, sadly, was the prospect of arriving to a world in smouldering ruins… the sheer injustice of it burned in him, it took a fair degree of effort to suppress the anger just picturing what was happening on Langara was causing him. But, what was new, was commanding a vessel in a battle. Sure, he'd been the second in command, he'd given orders in the heat of the moment, and he was confident of being able to do so again, but, the buck stopped with him now, he was responsible for this ship and this crew, including those who had never faced a battle situation before.

After he and Commander Fredericks had returned to the ship, fighting the urge to have the ship jump to hyperspace immediately, he had ordered battle drills, with the crew conducting all manner of exercises that would serve them in the hours to come; reloading torpedoes, preparing for possible hostile boarding parties, simulating hull breeches and the like.

As well as ensuring the Fraiser would be ready for the fight, it also served as a distraction, to eat up the time that they were being forced to wait, first, as ships were being summoned from across the galaxy to join the task force, and now, for any intel from Langara prior to departure.

He was also in near constant contact with the other seven ships, as well as Caldwell and Carter at the SGC. It was understandable that they wanted to know as much about the situation they were facing as possible, but, on the other hand, people were likely dying while they waited. Eight ships would hopefully be enough to drive off whatever was waiting for them, or at the least to distract them from attacking the planet long enough for more Earth ships to join the fight.

It was all getting a little too frustrating, O'Neill could see it in the faces of his Bridge crew, the odd mutterings that were a little too loud, the atmosphere getting ever tenser. He felt it too, of course, perhaps the most. By his nature he was a man of action, one motivated to act, even if it risked his own life, if it meant saving someone else. Having to pair that with the pressures of leadership had been an odd balancing act for his older self, and so it was for him too, though his was tempered by a career spent as part of larger crews, rather than his other life in the special forces. But, for all the differences, at his core, he was an O'Neill, and an O'Neill didn't like sitting out a fight.

Some beeping from a sensor console off to his right distracted him.

"Sir, hyperspace window forming, 200,000km starboard."

O'Neill's brow wrinkled, "On screen… The Minerva? They and the others were meant to meet us at Langara."

"N, no sir." As the rupture in space time came into view on the Bridge's holographic display, just as a group of Lucian Ha'tacks burst into realspace.

The alarm systems were already engaging as O'Neill rose to his feet, roaring "BATTLESTATIONS!" as he did.

The Earth fleet had been holding position on the dark side of the Moon, so as to avoid detection by any keen eyed amateur astronomers peering into the night sky from down below, the Lucian threat had arrived just beyond the edge of the Moon's orbital path, their less advanced hyperdrives operating more reliably beyond the edge of gravity wells. As their drives powered down, sealing the breech they arrived through behind them, the eight Earth ships swung into action, their sublight drives firing, reorienting them towards the enemy, quickly closing the distance required to bring their beam cannons to bare, dozens of nuclear tipped spatial torpedoes streaked ahead, hoping to either catch a ship too slow to raise its shields, or, failing that, to soften one up ahead of the more powerful Asgard designed weapons taking over.

The two 307 class vessels were first into the fray, the most powerful of Earth's fleet in every respect, opening up with their beam cannons together, obliterating the first Ha'tack to have the ill fortune to come into range, before switching to individual targets, along with the older Odyssey. Meanwhile, the smaller 306 vessels split into two groups, O'Neill ordering the Fraiser to form up with the Pendergast, their weapons less able to penetrate the enhanced enemy shields, though their smaller size was an advantage when it came to avoiding the hail of weapons fire being unleashed.

"How many of them are there?" Yelled out the Captain, a shower of sparks bursting from overhead as the Fraiser's shields absorbed another salvo of plasma.

"It's hard to tell Sir! There's a lot of energy flying around out there! At least four!"

The viewscreen flashed white, before the ship rumbled as the resultant shockwave hit, straining the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity generators.

"Three, then." O'Neill said with a wry smile. Pulling up the available data, such as it was, on the screen built into his chair's arm, he watched the dots representing both fleets move around in real time. What were they doing, he wondered. Why attack us? Why now? Another hour and they'd have been gone. It was madness. They didn't even seem to be attempting to out manoeuvre us, they'd headed straight for us, and even after the first pass, as the Earth ships began to double back for a second attack run, the Lucian ships were doing the same. The ship shuddered again as it accelerated out of its turn, the smaller vessels swooping and diving like predatory birds towards the larger targets, doing their best to avoid as much of the incoming fire as possible, while serving as useful distractions for the heavier hitting battlecruisers coming up behind.

O'Neill focused on the battle, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, why not make a break for the planet? Why commit to a head to head fight they couldn't win? A shower of sparks from the ceiling brought his notice fully back into the moment, as the ship's shields did their best to dissipate the energy of another salvo of plasma fire. The few seconds till they were back inside range of the Fraiser's cannons felt like an eternity.

Yet another blast of sparks showered the Bridge, "reroute all available power to the shields" came as a response from the Captain, doing his best to be as calm and in control as it was possible to be in such a situation, for the benefit of those around him experiencing it for the first time. He began to ask how long till weapons range when something caught his eye, a brief flash of light, beyond the oncoming Lucian vessels that were now between them and the Moon.

"Captain, hyperspace window forming, 70,000km ahead!"

O'Neill narrowed his eyes, "what's coming through?"

"Unknown, sir, from here we can only see the back of the window, we won't know unti…" The Lieutenant was cut off as the tear in spacetime collapsed back in on itself, revealing another five Lucian vessels to the Fraiser's sensors.

"They're heading for Earth!" yelled O'Neill. The crew snapped out of what they were doing, a moment of shock, however small, before their training kicked back in.

"Break out of this dogfight, get us between them and the planet!"

Pavlev's hands were a blur at the helm, calculating a course, but it was no good. "Sorry sir, we can't beat them to orbit, even at full sublight speed."

O'Neill sat back down, closing his eyes for a moment. It was his nature to act rashly at times, well, perhaps it was _his_ nature, either way, this was a time to consider the options, he could faintly hear those around him asking for orders as he debated the choices open to them, when it hit him. He remembered just what was needed.

"Bring the hyperdrive online!" To an understandably blank sea of faces around him, not waiting for any sort of questioning, he continued, "Pavlev, a one second burst, bring us to the other side of the planet." Remembering when SG-1 had pulled off something similar with an asteroid.

Quickly relaying with the other Earth vessels, the Enterprise and Challenger would use their more powerful engines to close on the Lucian's from the rear, while the Jackson, Emerson and Odyssey would finish off the remaining, original enemy ships. The Fraiser, Weir and Pendergast broke off and prepared to jump.

"All hands, it's going to get bumpy." O'Neill cut the com and nodded at his helmsman who spun back round to his controls. Right on cue, a burst of blue, purplish light filled the viewscreen as the three vessels hyperdrive engines ripped open the barrier between dimensions. It was all over almost too quickly to process, the ship lurched forward, but there was barely any time for the drive to stabilise, it was already preparing to tear open an exit before the entrance had even been sealed behind them.

Reality itself wasn't happy.

Within a blink of an eye, the Fraiser burst back into realspace. Sparks erupted all around the bridge, crystals, power relays, capacitors and a multitude of other systems suffered the brunt of it, as the overloading energy from the Drive's core spread throughout the ships systems, searching for a release. O'Neill didn't even need to look at the screen on the arm of his chair to know they'd likely just fried the control crystals for the Hyperdrive, at best, but it didn't matter. The viewscreen showed nothing but an empty field of stars.

They'd jumped past the planet.

"Helm, get us back into the fight, full emergency thrust!"

The sublight drive flared, a ship already strained by battle and a hyperspace jump that would have been against the rules had anyone thought there to be a need to advise not doing one veered sharply up, accelerating hard enough to being to overwhelm the array of technology that was meant to give the crew a relatively comfortable ride, the Earth's gravitational pull and the friction caused by the outer edges of the atmosphere combined with the sheer speed involved to push every one of the Bridge crew back into their seats. Anyone unlucky enough to be standing was quickly forced backward into the nearest wall as the ship shook, feeling more like an old school rocket launch than anything most of them had ever experienced.

"Suck it up people! As soon as we're in position, standby all weapons!"

The three craft tore round the circumference of the planet, the Moon crested over the horizon of the globe ahead of them, before sensors began to identify the ships in the distance, the Lucian vessels and the Earth ships chasing them.

"30 seconds to firing range!" Fredericks looked across from her chair, sitting more forward as the G Forces dropped off, acceleration dropping and the ships interial dampeners kicking back in. "Wait, I'm detecting weapons fire already?" Sure enough, the Bridge's viewscreen began to highlight weapons fire coming from three positions ahead of them.

All around the Earth, various inoculate looking satellites and pieces of space junk had come alive, their internal naquadah fusion reactors powering up, the Asgard Beam Cannons they carried standing by.

O'Neill let a sigh of relief, "So they finally got the Starfire Array working." He hadn't been sure if the Array, was even working yet, or if it was how many cannons there were, or how many were even in range.

Three of them clearly where, and as their cannons targeted the lead Lucian vessel, the three 306 class ships entered range and did the same, destroying it. This time however, rather than using their small size and manoeuvrability to make attack runs, the three Earth ships held their positions, to sit between the enemy and the surface, regardless of the cost. It wasn't something they were designed for, and they quickly began to feel the strain as repeated blasts hit them, the Weir's shields collapsing under the onslaught, "Tell them to get behind us!" Was O'Neill's response, perhaps they could still fire while protected by the Fraiser's shields, he reasoned.

O'Neill ordered the second ship targeted as it continued to attack. A flash of light in the distance suggested the 307's had caught up and destroyed a straggler, but for now they were alone. Repeated beam cannon and nuclear warhead strikes were taking a toll, but not quickly enough, when suddenly a flash of light tore across space, before the Ha'tack exploded, a release of energy strong enough to buffet the Fraiser.

"What the hell was that?" Seemed to come from half the Bridge crew in unison, but with a few taps on his personal screen, O'Neill got the answer. Only one of them had yet been built, originally intended for the Enterprise, but the technology to shrink it enough was still beyond them, for all their advances. A truly massive rail gun, rail cannon was probably a better name for it, stationed at a Lagrange Point, capable of accelerating a quarter ton slug of neutronium coated trinium to one quarter light speed. That flash of slight and the resultant shockwave had been it destroying the Ha'tack in a single shot. Impressive, but its vast energy requirements led him to suspect they wouldn't be getting any further help from it in the near future.

'Mjolnir," was its name.

The Lucian vessels were now essentially trapped, three heavy hitting battlecruisers were closing in from the rear, the two smaller craft, backed up by beam cannon satellites in front, another flash of light reduced the number of Ha'tacks to one.

It would have been all too easy to relax, even slightly, the intense stress that had been driving O'Neill that had made the last minutes feel like days was taking a toll, and all that was left was a single vessel, out matched and out gunned.

"Let's get this done people, target that thing."

Then he noticed, perhaps he should have noticed sooner. It was still getting closer, accelerating even. Even as the weapons fire from the oncoming ships brought down its shields and began to tear chunks out of its superstructure, the Lucian craft was still coming.

"Are they trying to crash into the planet?" Pavlev theorised, it was certainly possible.

"Hold position! Keep firing. They cannot reach the surface!" O'Neill gripped the arms of his chair harder, if this was the end, so be it.

Instead he and the rest of his crew could only look on in horror as the Ha'tack swerved at the last moment, ramming into the Pendergast alone, pushing both into the Earth's upper atmosphere.


	35. Revelation

**New York City,**  
 **Earth,**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

"We return once again to the reports still coming in of unknown, burning debris landing in the Atlantic Ocean just off the coast of New York City."

…

"Footage of the incident is limited, but even mobile phone camera shots clearly depict at least one, perhaps two objects crashing into the sea."

…

"Examining what footage we have seen, I believe we are seeing two distinct forms, a smaller, greyish mass that hits the water first, followed by a second, larger, almost pyramid esque, mostly golden object."

"Any speculation on just what it is we are looking at Professor?"

"Ocams razor, as crazy as it sounds, what else could two large, unidentified, metallic objects falling out of the sky be besides…"

…

"Still no comment from the US Government on the incident."

…

"We go live to emergency services crews dealing with what the authorities are terming a tidal wave event, for lack of a better term, as the coast of Manhattan Island is partially flooded."

…

"I've just been handed a note to say there will be an announcement at the United Nations on the hour."

General O'Neill's perpetual channel changing, while something of a distraction, was at least giving something of an overview of the media's reaction. It was remarkably measured, or perhaps editorial staff not wanting to be the first to blink and outright state two spacecraft had just crashed into the Atlantic Ocean for fear of getting it wrong and looking ridiculous.

Or perhaps the fear of being right.

No matter, they'd know the truth soon enough. Woolsey was currently in a limousine, alongside General's O'Neil and Carter, speeding its way to the UN building. None of it had quite sunk in yet, events were in a blur, adrenaline firing. The concept of taking the Stargate public had been one with which he'd been tasked as Secretary General of the Coalition; the draft plan was thousands of pages long and was to take years to implement, and it was still a source of endless controversy and debate among the member nations. Now, now they had hours.

He had hours.

To his credit, the General had refrained from making one of his favoured jokes about Richard's love of a good speech, as he sat somewhat frantically scribbling and annotating what was, almost unquestionably, the most important speech in all human history. He tried to keep from his mind, that he would, before the hour was up, go from a quiet, unassuming man in the street, to, well, everyone on Earth was going to end up seeing what was about to happen.

He scarcely noticed the car arriving at the UN building, nor as he was ushered from it inside, still flicking backwards and forwards amongst his notes, almost lost in his thoughts, past the massed ranks of security, the legions of journalists and the ever increasing throng of ordinary people who had come seeking answers. Had he been paying attention, Woolsey would have noted the strange atmosphere; a profound mixture of fear, hope, anxiety, anger, even happiness for some. With the lack of official comment, and the sheer strain of traffic crippling the civilian communication networks, rumours spread through the crowds like a game of Chinese whispers; it was aliens, it was a secret military project gone awry, it was a mission to intercept an asteroid, it was all fake, a great government distraction to coverup something else… The closer they got to the announcement time, the more restless they got.

Inside, the UN Chamber was packed like never before, delegates from every nation on Earth had arrived, leaders who could be there, were. News Channels filled time speculating how those from across Europe, Russia and China had managed to get there quite so quickly, as yet unaware of the existence of instantaneous transportation technology, if only for a few hours longer. Backstage, still with the two General's, Woolsey gathered his thoughts, preparing himself for what was to come. It has been decided that while he spoke, the available leaders, as well as Carter and O'Neill, would stand behind him, a united front, as it were. He suspected they were no more comfortable with the thought of being thrust into quite so bright a spotlight than he was.

Before he knew it, he was stood at the podium, the blur of the last few hours suddenly punctured by the glare of a thousand camera flashes, the metaphorical weight of the world on his shoulders, the knowledge that every pair of eyes and ears that could be were focused on him at this very moment.

"History." He thought to himself, then he began.

"Good afternoon, my name is Richard Woolsey." A hush descended over the chamber as he started to talk, his words almost echoing in the silence. The Generals and politicians stood motionlessly behind him, he recalled how Carter and even O'Neill had wished him well as they had walked out, it already felt like a lifetime ago.

"As I stand here, flanked by political and military leaders, you may wonder why you are hearing from me, a man that you do not know. I am the Secretary General of a United Nations body, of which, you also do not know. The United Nations Coalition," he paused slightly, "For Interplanetary Defence."

Murmurs quickly filled the room, while many nations were involved in the Coalition, not all of them were, and even those that were hadn't necessarily informed their ambassadors, or their entire ambassadorial staff at the least, never mind the many journalists, film crews, security and admin staff that were present. Of course, the recent tweaking of the name to reflect the admission of powers from beyond the Earth itself made it even more of a bombshell statement than it would otherwise have been.

There was a lot to explain and not a lot of time, so Woolsey pressed on, "I can confirm that today, at 9:37am Eastern Standard Time, two spacecraft crashed into the sea off the coast of New York City." The murmurs raised in volume. "One of which was of extra-terrestrial origin, and the other… was of Earth origin."

That did it. The room erupted, an outpouring of emotion and bewilderment. Woolsey stopped for a few moments, allowing the room to police itself, as some of those present shouted for calm, or at least enough quiet for things to proceed.

"One of our own, crewed by brave men and women. Men and women who gave their lives for the safety of those of us below. 73 who made the ultimate sacrifice." A sombre quiet filled the room now, as those present processed what had happened.

"They are not the first, nor, I imagine, sadly, the last, to give their lives for the safety and freedom of mankind, until now in secret, with no recognition, they have fought in your name, in the shadows.

30 years ago, a device of alien origin was discovered, a means to be transported instantaneously between worlds. We call it the Stargate. Through it, we discovered a galaxy teeming with life and wonders, yet also, one filled with terrifying threats. The decision was taken, to keep this from the public, for your safety. We hoped for a time of peace to reveal these wonders to the world, but alas, events have accelerated matters beyond our control.

I'm sure many of you will be feeling angry, afraid, uncertain of the future. I understand. A complete dossier on the history of Stargate Command will be made available, to all media organisations and published to the internet, so I will be brief, but needless to say, the men and women of Stargate Command have fought and died, not just for the protection of us and our home, but for the peoples and planets of countless civilisations, in this galaxy and beyond. This international force has defeated barbaric alien empires that we now know kidnapped our ancient ancestors, using humanity as slaves across the stars, we have befriended beings who inspired the myths and legends of our past and developed the technology to turn science fiction into science fact.

We are not alone. Far from it. We are not the only life in this vast universe, we are not even the only world of humans. But when you ponder that in the days and weeks to come, know that we are not just a single world among many, know that Earth, humanity's cradle, is a beacon of hope among the stars, know that in your name, countless people have been freed from the yoke of oppression, slavery and terror. Know that freedom is known for the first time in millennia on hundreds of worlds, know that our home is spoken of in reverence across each of them, know that Earth stands for the defence of all that is good and true.

And know that you now know, the truth."


	36. Shit, Meet Fan

Lucia  
Milky Way Galaxy

"HE'S DONE WHAT?!" Ventrell roared, rising to his feet, sending the table and the drinks and food upon it flying in the process. Morall, Jesa and Sarra instinctively pushed their own chairs backward to avoid the resultant mess.

He had been enjoying a drink with one of the few among the Seconds he genuinely saw not just as an ally, but as a friend; Morall, of the Eighteenth Clan, when Sarra and Jesa had arrived. Their status as trusted allies, if not, perhaps, as friends, had been enough to earn them a spot at his table, inside his private quarters within the Pyramid. Once the home of the Goa'ulds who lorded it over their ancestors, it was now somewhat less ostentatious. Ventrell was a man of simpler tastes than many of his fellow Lucian commanders, not least the False Gods. Even so, the quarters were extensive, fine gold detailing covered the walls, depicting some presumably fake origin story for the God who called it home at the time. The thought of tearing it all down to be replaced with one telling the history of the Lucian Uprising appealed to the First, if not for him, then for whoever would come to occupy it next, to keep them mindful of their place in the galaxy, but, alas, there wasn't much call for such artisans on Lucia, mores the pity.

As were the now destroyed fine crystal glasses and the splintered wood of the table they had been sat at, irreplaceable, no doubt. But there were far larger concerns. The First composed himself, and ushered his guests into the adjacent room, as nervous underlings carefully entered the room as they left, to clean and salvage what they could.

"The Ra damned fool." Ventrell composed himself as best he could. "Attacking Earth, directly? It must be the most heavily defended world in the galaxy! What was he thinking?"

"He doesn't think." Quipped Morall, at least bringing a hint of laughter to the group.

"You say that, while I might be inclined to agree, this information was surprisingly difficult to come by." Sarra was coming dangerously close to giving her foe a compliment there, but Ventrell had to admit, as his rage faded and his ability to think clearly returned, he had made it his business to ensure he had well placed 'sources' among the Second Clan, yet none of them had told him of this action, never mind forewarned him.

"So he's cleaned house? That is surprisingly strategic for him."

"It would appear so, I received a coded transmission, nothing further, my other 'friends' within Terrin's Clan have gone quiet."

"That he could discover all the spies and informants aboard his ships, lurking in the shadows of his worlds… I find that unlikely."

"How else do you explain the silence? My men would have reported this idiocy, without doubt, had they been able."

"Could he have turned them?"

"I'll choose not to take that as an insult, Morall…"

"What of the rest? The Clans who support him?"

"They'll burn with him."

Ventrell silenced the other three with his intervention, breaking his own quiet as they had debated and discussed while he considered his next move. Events that were already getting out of hand were spinning out of any hope of control.

"You would have us wage war against them?" Jesa sounded shocked at the concept, Clans fought and squabbled regularly of course, but outright war between them was one of the few taboos all of them agreed on.

"No, of course not, we can't fight them while the Tau'ri come looking for blood, and we'd drive the moderates into his arms."

Ventrell rose from his chair, electing to slowly walk around what passed for the Goa'uld version of a sitting room, the ornate couches and chairs in the centre, the walls draped in fine purple silks, save for a single window looking out across the city below, he made his way towards it as he spoke.

"Terrin has attacked Earth, if this report is accurate, worse than that, he's crashed one of his damned ships into the surface."

"Did you know the people of the Tau'ri know nothing of the galaxy? Of us? Even the Chappa'ai itself?" He did not wait for any replies.

"They have been awoken from their slumber by a warship crashing from the sky. Remember the devastation the Tau'ri unleashed in revenge for Terrin's assault on a backwater world they had no reason to care for? Imagine, the people of Earth, they will be angry, afraid, as any civilians on any attacked world would be, but more, they will be angry at being lied to, afraid of the truth. Those leaders, so ready to attack us in secret, will now have billions calling out in anger, at us, and at them. What better release for them than an enemy to be attacked beyond the stars, to unite their world."

Ventrell stopped and looked out across the slums and buildings below from the window. They stretched out as far as the eye could see, the most populated world in the entire Alliance, perhaps the most populated world in the galaxy, save for Earth itself. "Lucia must survive, the Alliance must survive, but for that to happen, all the Clans will not."

"What do you propose?" Sarra was the first to interrupt, which was to be expected.

"Nothing, nothing yet. But the Tau'ri will be coming. They've never cared before when it came to our Clans and who did what, they see us as one and the same. One Tau'ri battlecruiser destroyed half a planet with a single weapon. Imagine their fleet, tearing through Lucian space, how many of those missiles can each carry? How many worlds could they burn? Shipyards, Kessa farms… They will cripple us. They will come, they will occupy our worlds and reduce us to pawns among their 'Protected Planets;' mere backwaters in the Tau'ri Empire.

No. If Terrin and any foolish enough to follow him wish for all-out war with Earth, let them have it, perhaps they'll do us both a favour and cripple each other…"

The discussions continued until the other Seconds could be summoned to the capital, though without any resolution. Ventrell was confident these three, at least, supported his view that Terrin and his faction would have to be sacrificed to ensure the survival of the rest, they even strongly suspected other Clans would back them, or at least turn a blind eye to such an event, but the question was how; feeding the Tau'ri's damned SG Teams intelligence to aim them towards the sacrificial Clans' holdings was suggested, but held little guarantee of success, or that the Tau'ri wouldn't still just attack any Alliance force it encountered anyway. Attempting a meeting with their leadership may be the only way to deliver the message, but would they even listen? It was a debate to be continued at another time.

Deciding exactly which Clans he might be willing to sacrifice was made somewhat easier, when instead of arriving to meet in person, the dogs of the Second, Fourth, Tenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth and Seventeenth elected to attend via Goa'uld communication device, from Terrin's own palace on Oluk'ra. This act of ignorant defiance of tradition, and dismissal of the crisis that had been caused, could no doubt be of use to rally the more moderate Clans who had attended to support he and his allies, ensuring numerical superiority, making any risk of an attack on Lucia itself minimal, at least, an attack from within.

"Terrin of the Second Clan, you have launched an attack against the homeworld of the Tau'ri, in defiance of the views of this Council, you have endangered this Alliance with your reckless actions and, worse, you FAILED." The First's voice finally breaking into a scarcely controlled rage as he neared the end of his opening gambit.

For a moment, Terrin said nothing. Ventrell swung between wondering if there was an issue with the False God's technology, if nerves had consumed the little bastard or if he was attempting to goad him with the silence.

"Speak." Ventrell could command authority with voice alone when he wanted to, it stiffened the spines of those in the room, helped them to see the shit before them was insulting them all.

"I saw an opening, to attack our enemy, and I took it. We are at war, aren't we, First?"

Ventrell had steeled himself for any number of possible replies, but this one almost knocked him off his stride. The expected impudence, rage, defiance, that shit eating grin. But this? This was almost flat. Not defeated, just matter of fact. It was unexpected.

"What opening was that? To engage their fleet and leave burning wreckage scattered across the planet as a show of your strength?"

"Unfortunately, we miss timed our arrival. We had expected their fleet would have already departed to relieve Langara."

"Wait, what?" Sarra actually beat him to it, "You attacked Langara too?"

"Actually, we did." Narra grinned, before glancing at Latollen.

The anger was building around the Council, Ventrell might have taken the time to savour that if he hadn't been the angriest amongst them. "Ah of course, so after you pointlessly attacked that worthless dirtball that cost us all massively when the Tau'ri took their revenge, you band of ignorant pricks thought, 'let's do that again! But oh wait, what if we tried to attack Earth at the same time!'" He paused, shaking his head, the energy required to maintain composure was exhausting.

"How exactly did you FUCKING THINK THAT WOULD GO?!"

Silence again.

"SPEAK YOU IGNORANT LITTLE PRICK, before I come to Oluk'ra and BEAT IT OUT OF YOU."

"First, there is no point in this discussion."

The picture on the floating Goa'uld orb depicting Terrin's palace went blank.

Silence was no longer a problem on Lucia.


	37. A Toast

**Oluk'ra**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

Oluk'ra was not one of Navar's more favoured worlds. She found the humidity and heat stifling, it clung to her, an almost omnipresent, uncomfortable sensation, even inside Terrin's pyramid. The darker, red tinged light of its star was unsettling, throwing off her vision, distorting colours and shadows, even the gravity was different, lower than she was accustomed too, while the atmosphere felt as if it was pushing down on her, the ground seemed to be pushing upward, each step rebounding, her muscles overexerting themselves for the amount of effort needed. Truth be told, she had a dislike for any world that wasn't her own, its bracing chill, the crisp air, the ice that made her who she was. If she thought the wider Clan would accept it, she'd have moved their capital world there. A spell out on the ice would toughen up the rest of the Fourth, but alas, leadership involved sacrifices, upon occasion, and hers was to spend less time on Salqu, and more on worlds such as this. As she suppressed her discomfort at her surroundings, Navar could not supress her smirk as the com device cut out, a fitting insult to the fool who claimed to be First.

Terrin was right, there was no point in continuing the discussion, some of the Seconds believed in living life the Lucian way, and some believed in being meek, cowering before the Tau'ri, willing to give up the traditions that had formed the backbone of Alliance life for generations. She was certainly one of the former, steadfastly leading the Fourth Clan the way Kiva had, lost across the universe with the hated Tau'ri. She planned to find out exactly what had happened to her cousin once she and her men were standing on Earth's ground, once this war was successfully over. Perhaps they will be a little more forthcoming after a bit of orbital bombardment…

Or she could always make use of her new Langaran plaything, once her forces had succeeded in securing its Chappa'ai she'd have the means to dial the Ancient ship herself, perhaps even bring her cousin home.

For now though, she brought her attention back to the room. While all present were united in their hatred of Odai Ventrell, their bonds when it came to other issues were less secure. She ostensibly found herself as one of Terrin's closest allies, her forces leading the attack on Langara and the attack against the Tau'ri shipyard that had been important parts of the strategy thus far. Despite that, she didn't think of herself as especially close to him, indeed, she had determined it important to show some distance, not least with Terrin wasting strength, men and ships on an unsuccessful attack against Earth. While she could see logic in his explanation, and she was certainly willing to give a public show of support in front of the First and his lackeys, they were, after all, Lucians, perhaps the only true Lucians left. They had invested in Terrin as the leader of their cause and he had failed. That hung in the air of the room, a tension, something unspoken, but that they all knew was there. If they were so committed to the old ways, one of them really should set about slitting his throat and be done with it.

It wasn't so simple, of course. Terrin wielded true power, the Second clan's fleet was the largest, and the most advanced. He'd been smart enough to ensure many of his more potent weapons were usable only at his command, and there was no guarantee whomever that would take his place wouldn't simply turn on them, rather than join the fight against the First.

No, better to leave Terrin where he was, he was the focal point, sooner or later, whether it was the Tau'ri, or the First, someone would come seeking a head in payment for all that had been done. Better it not be her own.

"What of the Tau'ri?" It was likely everyone was thinking it, she thought, Serrac of the Fourteenth was the one to say it aloud, breaking the silence that had hung in the room.

They were split into two groups, sat on smaller, less elaborate seats to either side of Terrin's throne, a show for visual effect designed to antagonise Ventrell as much as anything else. Their erstwhile 'leader' rose from it, stepping down the 3 steps to the floor smoothly, before walking out into the room, again, carefully, before turning to face the group. Perhaps he was being smart enough to appear somewhat contrite, acknowledging his position of weakness without appearing too weak…

"We have sown terror and fear upon their world. Though we may not have succeeded in damaging it as much as we may have hoped. The people of the Tau'ri will be in a panic. Their mighty fleet will be recalled to defend their home. We shall have free reign, to raid and pillage, their friends, their allies, their protected planets. When they see that Earth will choose to defend itself rather than save them, the galaxy will be ours for the taking."

She couldn't help but allow a grin to spread across her face, he was making sense, surprisingly. Terrin was no fool, but such a measured, reasoned response when directly under attack was unexpected. It certainly had a positive effect, no doubt the thought of riches and territory to come was passing through every mind in the room.

There was, however, the other, yet unspoken, issue.

"And the other Clans?" Navar decided it may as well be her to bring it up.

"What Lucian could stand by and watch as our Clans reap the benefit of my strategy? They will join us, or they will be left behind."

More smirks and grins.

Her own amused expression was tempered as she noticed more of Terrin's _things_ shuffling into the room. They repulsed her, their scarred skin, haphazard metal implants, the way they moved, those eerie, milky white eyes. They were carrying trays with some sort of drinks on them, slowly, but robotically, they made their way around the group, each taking a glass. As one them reached Navar, she reluctantly took it, doing her best to avoid making eye contact with its blank, vacant expression.

She was no stranger to dolling out torture, but even she balked at assigning such a fate.

"Friends, a toast, to our victories to come." Terrin's voice was oddly, flat? For someone making some sort of rousing gesture, but something alcoholic was welcome, especially now those things had left the room.

"To Odai Ventrell!" Navar grinned. The assembled seconds downed their drinks in celebration.


	38. Slash and Burn

**P4X-187**  
 **Milky Way Galaxy**

It was a relief to be offworld, a respite from the chaos on Earth. Having been in and around the Stargate Programme since she was more or less a child, the reality of the universe was second nature to Hailey, it often escaped her mind as to just how shocking the truth would be, should it ever get out, and boy, had it got out.

There had been panic, riots, demonstrations, anger, fear… which was understandable really, one minute, we were alone in the universe, the next, there were burning starships falling from the sky, and their governments had been fighting an interstellar war without telling them. Media was dominated by nothing else, debating every facet of it as all the information was released, from how close the Earth had come to destruction, to whether modern religions had themselves grown out of alien interventions or not. It wasn't all bad, though. Hope and excitement were present too though, the world was now fascinated by anything and everything to do with the Stargate. Hailey had even heard rumours of a movie deal being signed. She was sure General O'Neill would _hate_ that.

The other, more personal consequence of all this was that she didn't have to lie to her parents, to her friends and family any longer. That had always been tough, as a consequence she hadn't really talked about what she did, or rather, what she claimed to do. Perhaps it had led some in her life to think of her as being somewhat closed off or insular. But now, now nobody thought she worked in Deep Space Telemetry, now she could tell people the truth! What she hadn't considered was that, her parents knowing the truth meant her parents knew the truth. It turned out parents might be quite concerned about their only daughter travelling to dangerous planets. Proud though, but perhaps they might miss the boring, occasionally mentioned Telemetry days…

There were still some secrets though, like her parents having no idea that she was on P4X-187, nor indeed many people outside of the Mountain. The SGC had stepped up incursions into Lucian space, seeking out targets for military strikes. Obviously, they had always shied away from attacking overtly civilian ones, but that was doubly true now, with far more political oversight than ever before, and, of course, public opinion to consider. Things were very conflicted back home, it might have been a little easier to take had it been the Wraith or the Replicators, something decidedly alien, but that their attackers were themselves human… it was a tricky issue to digest. The SGC and other official sources had strived to portray the Alliance as an, for want of a better term, 'evil' force that had conquered worlds, subjugated their populations and forced them to fight against their will. Public opinion wanted to see retribution for the attempted attack on Earth, but there was little appetite for the destruction of those otherwise innocent lives.

Nor was there much strategic value in that anyway. The Alliance would be far more damaged by the destruction of shipyards, military bases or, like the world they had arrived upon, kassa farms.

It was sparsely populated, indeed, she couldn't be sure there even was much of a permanent population, her and the rest of SG-28 had snuck in alongside various workers, well, slaves was probably a more accurate description, to tend to the fields, presumably they'd be expected to leave again once their 'shifts' were done, leaving only the Alliance guards to protect the planet. A number of Al'kesh were being used to ferry workers to further away fields, then bring back market ready kassa for transport through the Gate.

It was nasty stuff, kassa, it looked like corn at first glance, but it was also a highly addictive psycho-stimulant. It could be purified into an even more potent, valuable drug, or, as some Lucian clans favoured, mixed into the foods supplied to their conquered worlds, the resultant addiction keeping cowed populations in line and loyal. It was a major part of the Alliance economy, and a method for the rivalling Clans to compete and outdo each other.

There had been no windows in the Al'kesh's cargo hold that they had been led aboard, but a rough estimate based on the amount of time the flight had taken suggested that SG-28 now found themselves at least a third of the way around this world from the Stargate, assuming it was roughly Earth sized. They had taken the opportunity to slyly disappear into the fields, the crop handily growing tall enough to make them hard to spot for any watching overseers.

"We've seen enough." The Colonel stopped, apparently confident they were well out of earshot.

"Call it in Xiu."

The Lieutenant produced her coms device from a pocket concealed under the Lucian civilian style clothing she was disguised in, quickly logging their position and what they had discovered. It was unlikely that the local Lucian forces possessed anything that could detect such a transmission, but Hailey's hand hovered instinctively over the Zat secluded under her own disguise nonetheless.

No bigger than the smartphones people back home had thought of as cutting edge until recently, Xiu signalled the 307 class battlecruiser, Minerva, that was on standby a few dozen lightyears away. The first fruits of Earth's new partnership with the Tollan, while the older members of the SGC were excited by talk of cannons and other exotic sounding things, this little sliver of trinium was just as worthy a thing to get all worked up about, handheld FTL communication.

They didn't have long to wait. It was crazy to think this was their first time behind the lines since they had been captured. So much had happened since, so many other worlds. She was a trained soldier, and was fully prepared for this mission, but she was still relieved as she felt the tingle of the Minerva's transporter beginning to convert her body into energy.

Besides, best to not be on the surface when the Horizon is deployed.


End file.
